


If I Lose Myself

by mandzilkos



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Juventus Turin, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paulo loved Alvaro’s strength. His willpower. His calmness and coolness. He loved that he could lean on Alvaro’s shoulder any time he wanted. He loved Alvaro’s stupid facial hair.</p><p>Alvaro loved Paulo’s maturity. His willingness to trust. His liveliness. He loved how Paulo always managed to make him smile. He loved Paulo’s mesmerising green eyes.</p><p>But they both knew the big picture was more than just what they felt about each other. The two best friends had to work together to get past everything that kept them apart, trusting that it wouldn’t pull them further apart.</p><p>Because they knew that if one day they lost everything - if one day they lost themselves - they would always have each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is cross-posted on my tumblr, simozaza.
> 
> I wrote this over like, an intense 10-day span of dybata madness. This is a work of firsts - my first slash multi-chapter fic, first third-person fic, first time a ship has literally made me cry, etc etc etc. I don't know how to make ao3 allow prologues and epilogues so the prologue and epilogue are chapters 1 and 12 respectively. 
> 
> Special thanks to everybody who has listened to me fucking bawling over these two. I hope you enjoy!

The first person Paulo saw when he stepped into the Juventus training centre was Alvaro Morata.

The season had just ended but Alvaro was there talking to some staff members, planning his summer training schedule probably – but boy, was Paulo glad to see him, for he was utterly lost in the maze of corridors that were supposed to lead to the administrative office.

He was still standing there like a lost sheep when Alvaro finished his conversation and turned to him, his features softening and lighting up at the same time, despite that being almost impossible.

“Hi,” he said coolly. “You must be Paulo. I’m Alvaro.”

He spoke to Paulo in Spanish, like he thought that it would help form an instant connection between the both of them. Or make Paulo feel more welcome.

He had been right. Despite having been in Italy for three years, Paulo still felt more comfortable speaking Spanish.

“Hi,” Paulo said himself, reaching out to take Alvaro’s outstretched hand. “Yeah, I’m looking for the admin office?”

“It’s this way,” Alvaro walked a few steps down the hall and opened a door which seemed to lead into a room full of massage tables. He chuckled when he saw Paulo glance nervously into the room like he was wondering if Alvaro was playing a prank on him. “It’s a shortcut. You’re walking the wrong way.”

Paulo laughed sheepishly and followed his new friend and teammate through the room and out the other side, immediately spotting the sign for the office just down the corridor. He turned to thank Alvaro, who was still standing there at the door.

“No problem,” Alvaro smiled warmly, and Paulo was taken in again by how welcoming the guy was. He was glad that the first teammate he’d met was so friendly. “Uh, you’ll be fine from here? Will you need a ride anywhere, or anything?”

“It’s okay, my girlfriend is waiting outside,” Paulo said.

Alvaro’s gaze hardened immediately, though he made an effort not to make it obvious to Paulo. He smiled, the cheer not reaching the sides of his eyes. “Well then, I’ll be leaving,” he said, grabbing on to the doorknob and pushing the door closed. “See you around, Paulo.”

“Thank you,” Paulo managed to sputter again.

Alvaro’s eyes were the last part of him to disappear behind the closing black door; Paulo found himself unable to tear his gaze away from those toughened specks of brown jewels until they’d completely disappeared.

He turned on his heel and started walking towards the newest phase of his life.


	2. From Small Beginnings Come Great Things

Paulo spent his first days as a player of Juventus Football Club wading through all the boxes in his apartment.

Ana was there too, of course – she’d been a supportive enough girlfriend to move to Turin with him – but she was just like him, unorganised and somewhat lazy, and over the first week of their stay in Turin they developed a mutual habit of just sitting in the sea of boxes and picking out from them whatever they needed, whenever they needed it. It was a boring beginning to summer, honestly.

So Paulo couldn’t be blamed for feeling excited when a text lit up his phone, and he checked the screen only to see that it was neither his family nor his old friends.

It was Alvaro.

He picked up the phone excitedly, earning himself one of Ana’s _looks_. “It’s my new friend,” he said gleefully, but that didn’t help in his case.

“Alvaro?” Ana asked. “What’d he say?”

“That he spent three hours at the admin desk trying to convince the lady to give him my number.”

“Psh, look at you,” she teased, reaching over and pinching his cheek. “You can’t stop smiling.”

“I’m just excited to be here,” he retorted, stretching his lips into a more default position, only to have it spring back up into a smile just moments later as he started typing _‘that’s very nice of you,’_ hoping it didn’t sound quite as formal as he thought. He added a smiley at the end, just in case. “He’s the only person I know from Juve right now.”

Silence fell upon the couple as Paulo busied himself with replying to Alvaro’s teasing texts with jokes of his own. Eventually, he got up from the couch and stretched noisily.

“I’m going for dinner with some of the guys,” he told Ana. “Alvaro’s going to introduce me to them. Do you wanna come?”

“To a dinner full of boys? Nah,” Ana said. “I’ll be here. Among the boxes.”

And she lay down on the couch and promptly fell asleep, so Paulo got dressed and went out to meet his new teammates.

——

Paulo didn’t leave Alvaro’s side for the entire evening. He didn’t want to, and Alvaro was more than glad to be his buddy for the night. Besides, Paul, Gigi, and Claudio didn’t seem to be giving the poor little guy any chances when it came to teasing.

When they started poking and prodding about Paulo’s love life, Alvaro felt himself pull away just a little, even though he didn’t want to. His love life was as pathetic as it could possibly get and he always felt this irrepressible bitter taste in his mouth whenever the others spoke about their significant others. At that point in his life, he didn’t know if he would have the chance to one day look at someone that way – to have someone look _at him_ that way.

And it didn’t help that the guys would routinely tease him about not having a girlfriend ever since he joined Juventus, and they’d even go to the extreme lengths of bringing girls for him to meet. He’d never taken a liking to any of the girls or any of his teammates’ despicable, annoying ideas. He had a very specific taste and he preferred to stick strictly to that.

He only managed to catch snippets of their conversation as it shot back and forth – Paulo had met Anastasia while he was playing in Palermo, she was a dancer, and she moved to Turin with him. The rest just flew across the top of his head like some specks of dust.

Paulo noticed how distant Alvaro had become, just as everyone had finished eating and were walking down the street towards God-knew-where, with the three of them in a group ahead and leaving the both of them tagging along behind.

He nudged Alvaro in the ribs. “You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Alvaro said, and then went quiet again.

“You don’t like talking about your love life?” Paulo guessed.

Alvaro shrugged.

“I understand how that feels,” Paulo continued, and Alvaro stared at him because how could he _possibly_ understand? He had a hot dancer girlfriend. “I mean, there are things that I wouldn’t want to talk about either.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “Thanks.”

“I’ll tell them to back off.”

And then Alvaro couldn’t help but burst into loud laughter, leading the three of them in front to turn around and stare at him in astonishment. “You?” he choked, pointing at Paulo. And then at Gigi, Paul, and Claudio. “Them?”

A pout formed on Paulo’s face, which only succeeded at making Alvaro laugh harder. He turned and started _stomping_ down the street, wedging in between a very surprised Gigi and Paul and breaking through to the other side. Alvaro laughed softly as he watched.

“Oh no, you pissed him off,” Paul said.

 _“Oh no,”_ Alvaro said mockingly. But he, too, barged in through the hole Paulo left and ran after him. “Hey,” he said as he grasped Paulo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“I’m not as much of a pushover as you think, you know,” Paulo replied.

“I know, I know,” Alvaro said. “But you should understand that it’s a little hard to believe after watching you get pushed around by them the entire evening.”

And that made Paulo smile, which in turn gave Alvaro a calming sense of relief. They turned and continued walking, with the trio now behind them.

“I’m sure you’ll find a girl you like one day,” Paulo said, seamlessly continuing from where they’d left off earlier.

“You think?”

“Of course. I mean, you’re still so young, aren’t you like, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-five!” Alvaro exclaimed. “I’m twenty-two. Rude.”

And that made Paulo laugh for the first time that night, which in turn made Alvaro feel so happy. Paulo seemed like a great guy and he was glad that he could help him fit into this team. He was glad that Paulo recognised his discomfort and made an effort to console him about it, that he knew how to distinguish serious talk from teasing.

Alvaro was glad that this seemed to be blossoming into a great friendship.

It turned out that Alvaro lived a few traffic junctions down from Paulo’s new place, so after dinner they walked each other home, first stopping by at Paulo’s.

“I’d invite you in, but it’s just boxes right now,” Paulo said as he stepped up the stoop.

“Some other time then,” Alvaro shrugged. “Let me know if you need help unpacking.”

Then the big front door opened, and out stepped a slim brunette girl with her hair in a bun. She greeted Paulo with a huge smile, even though he took a moment to actually realise she was there, he was so preoccupied with talking to Alvaro.

“You’re home!” she said, startling Paulo into finally noticing her. “I was about to go get myself some dinner.”

“Dinner?” Paulo asked, like he was trying to gauge how hungry he still was. “How about I cook for the both of us?”

She agreed excitedly, and only then did she turn and see Alvaro, who took a hand out of his pocket and stretched it towards her. “Hi, I’m Alvaro.”

“Ana,” she said, still smiling, and she was standing on the same step as Paulo and she was the same height as him, if not a portion of an inch taller. They looked adorable and Alvaro felt a hint of bile in his throat. He didn’t want to be jealous of anybody’s relationship, really, much less Paulo’s, but he always found himself feeling that way in those situations.

“Well,” he dug the front of his right sneaker into the ground. “I’ll make a move. Enjoy your dinner. Nice to meet you, Ana.”

And as he turned and left the last thing he saw was Paulo’s bright green eyes, grateful and concerned and hesitating in the gap between the door and the frame, like he wanted to ask Alvaro what was wrong again.

But a split second later they’d disappeared, and Alvaro headed down the street towards home, towards a night much lonelier in comparison to Paulo’s.


	3. The Best Medication

It was nice having Paulo living just down the street, Alvaro thought. After holidaying individually for a couple of weeks, the pair spent their days playing FIFA on each other’s Xboxes, much to Ana’s chagrin. The two men spent their days with their butts glued to the couch and eyes trained on the TV screen, while Ana watched, sometimes tapping her feet impatiently and annoying the hell out of Alvaro.

He had gotten much closer to both Paulo and Ana by then, simply because Ana was always with Paulo. When Alvaro brought him around the city for a tour, Ana went along. When they went to the training centre for a pre-season club meeting, Ana tagged along, too, and sat outside in the car waiting.

So Alvaro wasn’t very reluctant to admit that he was glad when Ana found a dance studio and spent most of her time there instead of following them along on any day out.

After a few weeks, she even told them she was joining their dance troupe and she was leaving to tour the Americas in three months, for three months. Paulo let her go, of course, but he seemed to have a little trouble dealing with that. Alvaro, on the other hand, felt happy – half for her, and half for himself.

“Be nice to her,” Paulo told him, like he felt the need to be some kind of mediator between his girlfriend and his best friend.

That’s right, his _best friend_. Alvaro was pretty sure he’d earned himself that title by then, whether he liked it or not – actually, scratch that. He liked it.

“I _am_ nice,” he retorted.

Paulo shot him one of those looks he always saw Ana shooting at him. They were like the same person, except Paulo didn’t dance. Well, not that Alvaro knew of.

They debated for a while about what they were going to do that day, before deciding that the best thing to do would always be to lie around on the couch and play FIFA. So Paulo brought out some nachos and a tub of cheese and they spent the entire afternoon in comfortable silence, occasionally chirping the other for conceding a goal or whining about the game being unfair.

Alvaro liked afternoons like this; just him and Paulo and their cartoon figures on the screen. He just felt so comfortable around Paulo, so calm whenever he was around. No one understood Alvaro like Paulo did – the ups and downs of his mood, the things and thoughts he struggled with, and exactly what was wrong whenever he saw Alvaro’s expression change. Alvaro couldn’t describe it if anyone ever asked him, so he kept it to himself.

That day ended with the both of them slouched over on one another on the couch, controllers oily and cheese dip depleted but nachos only half-finished. Paulo tucked his legs under himself, pushing his head harder against Alvaro’s shoulder.

Alvaro liked this, too.

“Pig,” he jibed nonetheless.

Paulo sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m tired,” he said softly.

Alvaro said nothing. It was past nine but Ana wasn’t home. She was probably busy practising with her dance group. Suddenly Alvaro felt a twinge of guilt for being happy that Ana would be gone and leave him to hang out with his best bud; he’d been so consumed over how _he_ felt that he didn’t realise how bad Paulo had it.

“What time is Ana coming home?” he asked.

Paulo shrugged, jostling him. Then he heaved another huge sigh. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro tried his hardest to push back the thoughts in his head.

“I know you don’t like her, but –“

“I like her,” Alvaro interrupted, and nodded firmly when Paulo gave him a doubtful look. “I do.”

Paulo smiled sadly, and tucked his head in Alvaro’s shoulder again. “At least I have you.”

And Alvaro said nothing again, just sat there stock still as Paulo fell asleep, his hands shaking and his heart beating so hard he couldn’t not be surprised that Paulo didn’t just wake up because of that.

——

Paulo liked Juve’s training sessions. He liked everyone at Juve, really. He felt like such a fanboy.

He would still stick to Alvaro, though, like a little duck following its mother duck around. And Alvaro was glad to take him under his wing, so to speak. He would always feel uncomfortable without Alvaro around, like he didn’t really fit in with all the chattering. He wanted to kid around with Alvaro, to laugh with him and spew one of their Spanish inside jokes and giggle while everyone looked confused.

Well, except Mario, of course. He’d just learnt some Spanish at Atletico and would occasionally join in the laughter. But Paulo didn’t mind that much. He was new, too, after all, and the new boys had to stick together.

They were having one of those five-on-fives during training that day, and Paulo really was enjoying it, playing against all the people he looked up to. He was put on the same team as Alvaro, and they were doing a great job at terrorising the other defence.

That is, until Paulo looked up expecting to find Alvaro in the middle exactly where he knew he’d be, waiting to pass the ball into the net again, only to find that he was missing.

He froze, and he felt everybody staring at him wondering what he was up to. He took a quick glance around the playing area – Alvaro and his green bib were nowhere to be seen.

Then he heard a weak voice calling out to him from behind, outside the field of play, “Pau!”

He spun around as Claudio stole the ball from right under his nose.

And he saw Alvaro sitting on the ground, his left leg bent and a look of distress scrunching up his face.

He ran over immediately, and fell to his knees next to Alvaro, gently holding Alvaro’s left leg in his hands because it looked like it hurt. “What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I –“ Alvaro winced when Paulo gave his calf the slightest squeeze. “Fuck, no, ouch.”

Paulo turned and waved for the medics to come over, and everyone stopped playing with the ball and instead stood on the pitch gazing curiously in their direction.

He watched helplessly as the medics helped Alvaro to his feet and led him to hop back into the medical centre. Alvaro had his eyes squeezed shut, and his nose was scrunched in a ball and he was biting his lip like he was trying his best not to cry. And it tore Paulo apart to see him that way. Alvaro always had to act tough – sometimes Paulo wished that he would cry even just for the sake of crying, just so he would feel better. Just so he would let it all out.

He spent the rest of the training session giving away more balls than he kept, unable to stop his mind from wandering to Alvaro in the medical room. When the coach blew the whistle and signalled the end of practice, he left the others to pick up the stray balls and sprinted straight to the medical room in his cleats, almost tripping over the threshold but managing to grab on to the door handle to keep him steady.

He rounded the corner and immediately saw Alvaro sitting slouched over on an examination table, his left calf wrapped with an ice pack. Paulo stumbled in noisily in his cleats and collapsed into the chair next to Alvaro even though he was covered in sweat and grass.

“What did the doctor say?”

“MRI tomorrow. Might be a tear.”

Oh, he could barely speak coherently. Paulo felt like he was about to burst into tears, the volume of which would adequately cover both his and Alvaro’s sorrow.

Instead, he stood up and pushed the chair away, pressing his body against Alvaro’s as he pulled his best friend into a hug, pressing his cheek on the top of his head. “You’re going to be alright,” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Alvaro whispered back.

“I know you are,” Paulo said, because even though he’d only known Alvaro for two months he just _knew_ Alvaro was going to be fine. He was going to _make sure_ Alvaro was fine. He felt Alvaro begin to sob in his arms, and in turn he pressed his lips against the top of Alvaro’s hair. “No one’s here right now, if you want to cry. I always wonder how you do it. How you keep it all inside. You’re the toughest person I know, Alvaro. If you want to cry right now, to let it all out, I understand. It doesn’t make you any weaker. Not one bit. Look, I’ll go lock the door for you.”

But when he tried to pull his arms away from the hug all Alvaro did was grab him more tightly, his fingers pressing on Paulo’s bicep, forcing him to stay by his side.

So Paulo dropped down on the examination table and pulled Alvaro into his chest as he sobbed quietly, his face turned downwards so Paulo couldn’t see it. His arms slowly snaked around Paulo’s body as Paulo grabbed his shoulders, the back of his neck, and then eventually a fistful of his hair, like he thought if Alvaro could _feel_ him there then he’d feel better.

Paulo understood, really – it was the beginning of the season and the both of them had the same striker’s mindset. They wanted to play games and score goals. They hated it the most when they had to watch from the sidelines.

And Paulo hated that he wouldn’t be playing his first competitive game for Juventus with Alvaro in the line-up.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro finally said, like he knew what Paulo had been thinking.

“It’s not your fault,” Paulo gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

There was complete silence all the way home. Not a single word was spoken. But it was another of their comfortable silences, the both of them expertly manoeuvring around each other, knowing each other’s habits like their own, even with Alvaro in crutches.

Paulo brought Alvaro painkillers and a glass of warm water after tucking him into bed, his leg propped up on a pillow where it didn’t hurt. He sat on the edge of Alvaro’s bed, watching him as he finished the entire glass.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Paulo said as he stood up to leave. “For the MRI. I’ll take you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I can’t let you go on your own.”

Alvaro gave that a little thought, and then sighed, like just thinking of the whole thing thoroughly exhausted him. “You can stay here, if you want,” he finally relented. “Couch, guest room, wherever.”

Paulo smiled and nodded, and turned off the bedroom light. He headed downstairs, put the glass in the sink, and took a deep breath. He’d barely had a minute alone since everything happened and he really just needed a breather. He needed to cope with his feelings.

He wiped the tears that had started to fall down his cheeks – he didn’t know what they were for. Seeing Alvaro let it all out had dampened his sorrow somewhat. He heaved a huge sigh not unlike Alvaro’s. Then he headed back upstairs.

There was just this calming feeling about Alvaro sleeping. Paulo was relieved to see that the pain had left his features.

There was the couch downstairs and the queen-sized bed in the other room, but Paulo knew that he wouldn’t be as comfortable sleeping in either of them as he would be sleeping on the other side of Alvaro’s bed, making sure he was okay.

So he did just that, timed his breathing along with Alvaro’s, and soon fell into a peaceful sleep next to the person he was so determined to protect.


	4. Anywhere I Go There You Are

The doctor gave Alvaro a month. An entire month off the pitch.

Paulo was with him, of course, when the news came. The two were practically inseparable, at least while Ana was at dance practice.

Alvaro said nothing, just closed his eyes and counted to ten, and then opened them again and asked for the rehabilitation schedule. Paulo found himself marvelling at his best friend’s strength. At his determination. At his willpower not to be distracted by any obstacles that came at him. He wished he could be just like Alvaro.

Paulo brought him home again and fed him his painkillers, after which he sat on the edge of Alvaro’s bed and watched as he tried to read a magazine without falling asleep every two minutes. It was really entertaining.

“Pau, you should go and be with Ana,” Alvaro said, his words slurred. “She’ll be leaving soon.”

He didn’t need to be reminded of that. But what Paulo was more afraid to admit was that he was more concerned about staying by Alvaro’s side than about spending time with his girlfriend. After all, Alvaro was the one who needed him; Ana would be preoccupied with her dance practice until the evening.

When he turned to Alvaro again, the bum had _fallen asleep_. His mouth hung open and the magazine lay face down on his chest. It was a very dramatic development.

Paulo laughed and took the magazine out of Alvaro’s grasp, putting it on the bedside table. Then he nudged Alvaro until he was lying flat, and pulled the sheets over him.

“See you later, pig,” he whispered as he shut the door.

He headed to the dance studio and waited for dance practice to be over – fortunately, they decided to let the dancers out on time that day. He waited impatiently at the door, feeling like he hadn’t seen Ana in ages. When Ana appeared, the brightest smile took over her face when she saw him standing there. She planted a huge kiss on his lips, returning the smile, lost when Alvaro got into his ordeal, back on his face.

Paulo brought his exhausted girlfriend out for a nice meal, and spent the evening listening to her update him about her dance troupe experience. Paulo promised her he’d attend a show if he could make it all the way to Mexico or the USA, which was unlikely because it would be the middle of the season. She listened to him tell her everything about Juve, although Paulo was too shy to admit that he was mostly just using other teammates’ names to cover up the fact that he’d been spending all his time with Alvaro.

At the end of the day, they got home at 8 pm, and Ana fell asleep after a quick shower.

Paulo snuck out of the house, hurried down the street, and let himself into Alvaro’s apartment, spending the night sitting in bed with him and talking about nothing.

——

Alvaro couldn’t be happier that he could fly to Shanghai with the team.

It wasn’t so much because he was going there for tests than it was because he wanted to be with Paulo for his competitive debut. He wanted to be with Paulo, period. He’d been with Paulo throughout the whole injury thing so far, and he just didn’t know how he would fare without him. He didn’t want to know.

Alvaro felt this irrepressible warmth as he watched Paulo score his first goal. He felt so utterly, indescribably proud of his best friend. It was like in that moment, the rest of the world melted away except for the relationship Alvaro and Paulo had.

When he met the rest of the very excited team in the locker room, he headed straight to Paulo, dropped his crutches, and wrapped him up in a huge smelly hug as he laughed into the front of Alvaro’s coat.

“Congratulations,” he whispered as he gently brushed his lips against the little shaved part of Paulo’s head above his ear.

“Thank you,” Paulo giggled. He wrapped his arms tightly around Alvaro’s waist and pushed his face just that little bit further into Alvaro’s lapels. “Thank you, Alvaro.”

And the rest of the world melted away again as they stayed that way.

Well, until the team formed a conga line and as Mario passed he screamed at them about why he didn’t get a hug for scoring the other goal.

Alvaro stuck to Paulo for the rest of the trip, like the roles had been reversed and he was now needy for Paulo like Paulo had been needy for him when he first arrived in Turin.

Alvaro didn’t mind being needy at all, as long as it meant he could spend all his time with Paulo.

——

Time flew by when the both of them were spending it together. Once Alvaro got himself back on the pitch, the weeks passed like they were in a bullet train heading straight towards December. The pair spent days together in training, kicking a ball silently between them; and then they spent nights together when Ana wasn’t around or when they were assigned the same hotel room. Which was on every away trip.

Their season hadn’t been going along as well as their friendship was, though, with Juve stuttering at the bottom of the table like a car engine that failed to start. They found themselves with more draws and losses than wins, fluctuating about the whole bottom half of the table. Whenever they got a win, they’d be thrown back down into reality again the next match.

Alvaro drove Paulo home after their match against Bologna in October. The first match they’d scored together in. It was almost silly how happy Paulo was over that simple fact that they’d scored twenty minutes of game time apart from each other. Alvaro would have teased him about it had he not also been equally excited about that fact. And also if he hadn’t found Paulo’s excitement utterly endearing.

It was a routine post-match night for them – they made dinner enough for four, saved one portion for Ana, and then ate the rest themselves as they sat on the couch, pressed together from ankle to shoulder, and watched the rerun of the match they’d just played. Paulo didn’t even complain about the lack of arm room, like he usually did teasingly.

When Ana came home she gave a little ‘psh’ at the sight of both of them with their dirty mouths, totally encompassed in all the actions of the match they’d just experienced live themselves. Alvaro gave a loud cheer when Paulo’s goal came, as the latter stood up with his arms spread wide and gave a little bow in response.

“Congrats, baby,” Ana said happily as she stood next to them eating her portion of dinner.

Paulo gave a little shy laugh, and then sat back down and leaned his entire body weight against Alvaro’s side. “I think I’mma crash,” he murmured.

“Right here?” Alvaro asked.

But Paulo had fallen asleep again, with his head on Alvaro’s shoulder just like how he’d fallen asleep numerous times before. Alvaro gave a little sigh, which was repeated by Ana as she finished her dinner and came to sneak her head under Paulo’s arm, the couple just sleeping peacefully there and leaving Alvaro with no other option.

He realised he felt insecure without Paulo’s touch. Without at least one part of Paulo’s body pressing against one part of his. He felt _needy as fuck_. He felt like he could never leave Paulo’s side.

Alvaro turned his head slightly to the side and planted a tender kiss on the top of Paulo’s head. It wasn’t so much a romantic one as it was just his way of telling Paulo, without waking him up, that he cared and that he would always be by Paulo’s side.

He fell asleep with his cheek resting against Paulo’s head, like it was the most comfortable, familiar, nice-smelling pillow.

——

Paulo found himself pining for Alvaro. Not even his touch or his presence, just _him_. He pined for Alvaro’s happiness. For his safety.

He pined for the time he spent on the pitch with Alvaro, even if they weren’t physically _together_ , just playing along the front and working together without needing to exchange a word to know how the other party was going to move.

He pined for the moments when either of them would score a goal and the first thing they’d do would be run to the other person, no matter if he was on the bench or on the pitch. He pined for when Alvaro would wrap him in the biggest, tightest hug, and softly kiss the side of his head like he thought no one would notice. Like he thought Paulo wouldn’t notice.

Paulo did, every time, even though he was drowning in the hug and in everyone else’s shouts of congratulations. He noticed those lips every time.

Soon he started pining for the moments on the pitch when he was tackled to the ground and was sitting there recollecting himself, and Alvaro would run over all the way from the other wing and offer him a hand.

Paulo took his hand willingly every time.

He pined for the random hugs they shared during a match, when Alvaro looked like a sad little puppy and Paulo just _had_ to go over and wrap his arms around him and feel him immediately relax. Before the half-time break, after the half-time break, Alvaro would be there beside him, and Paulo found himself grasping Alvaro’s elbow as they walked off or on the pitch, like it was some lucky charm.

He pined for the times when he would take every opportunity to squeeze into any available space between Alvaro and another teammate, just so he could feel his leg pressed up against Alvaro’s. Even if there was a big space across from him, Paulo would always choose the one next to Alvaro, no matter how small it was.

Paulo didn’t find anything strange about it – Alvaro was his best friend in the entire world right then and he understood Paulo in ways no one else could possibly fathom. He might have kept to himself most of the time but when it came to the both of them, Alvaro would always be there on the same level as Paulo.

It didn’t take Paulo long to admit to himself that he _was_ struggling with his feelings. Or rather, the overwhelming strength of them. Towards Alvaro.

He sat in the locker room one day after training, waiting for Alvaro – who, as usual, was the last to leave the showers, like he was busy counting every strand of his perfect facial hair, or something – and just generally contemplating how he felt towards the people around him. Sure, he had other close friends, other close _guy_ friends, but none of them were as close as he was with Alvaro. None of them had sent the same glow throughout his body whenever they touched him, starting from the point of contact. He’d never pined for the company of anyone as much as he did Alvaro’s.

Not even Ana’s.

Paulo startled when someone plopped down next to him. It was Mario – who, for some creepy reason, was always hovering around whenever Paulo and Alvaro were hanging out. Or when Paulo was just innocently thinking of Alvaro, like he was right then. As if he had some radar, or something.

“What’s up?” Mario asked.

“Nothing,” Paulo shrugged. “Just waiting for Alvaro.”

“You look troubled.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. Girl trouble?”

“No…” Paulo said again. It wasn’t exactly _girl trouble_. “It’s not girl trouble.”

“Boy trouble?” Mario guessed, teasingly.

“No.”

“Come on, tell me,” Mario prodded, but not annoyingly, like he just wanted to relieve some of Paulo’s thoughts.

“Look, I don’t want to talk –“

Before he could finish, Alvaro barged into the room in nothing but a towel wrapped at the waist, his hair dripping wet. “Anyone seen my shower gel?” he yelled, and when no one replied he proceeded to hurriedly dig through his bag before finally scurrying back out with his stupid little bottle of shower gel. Twenty minutes in the shower and he hadn’t even put on shower gel.

Paulo stared at him as he entered and left, his gaze lingering in the empty doorway even as Alvaro had disappeared down the hall, leaving a trail of water droplets behind him.

“Holy _fuck,_ ” Mario suddenly exclaimed. “It’s him. You like Alvaro.”

“What?” Paulo blinked at him.

“Stop blinking, it doesn’t hide the look in your eyes. _Holy shit, Paulo,_ I mean. You have a girlfriend. A hot dancer girlfriend, might I add.”

“I know,” Paulo resigned to his fate, aware that he was effectively confessing to Mario everything he was feeling towards Alvaro. “I know. I know.”

“Someone’s going to get hurt if you don’t sort your feelings out.”

“How did you figure it out?” Paulo asked.

Mario stared at him like he was crazy. Or stupid.

“You’re always looking at him like that. Like how you were looking at him just now. I always thought something was fishy but I never said anything because I know you have a girlfriend and I respect you and Alvaro enough to not go around spreading rumours. But you’re always hanging out together, dude, it’s like you can’t be apart. You both have that same look on your face whenever you’re without the other person. It’s like, the _most obvious thing_ , man.”

Paulo sighed, and then it was all silent. If it really was that obvious, then why didn’t _he_ see it earlier? He hadn’t noticed himself falling for Alvaro – if that was even what this was. And what did _Alvaro_ think about it all? Like, he had always been some degree of clingy to Paulo, but hell, _Paulo_ was as clingy to Alvaro as Alvaro was to him.

“Ana is leaving for three months next week,” Paulo said to Mario after five whole minutes of silence had passed. Alvaro hadn’t returned and Mario was just sitting there with a look of disbelief on his face. Like if you looked into his mind, all you’d see would be lines and lines of _‘holy fuck’_ repeated over and over again.

“I know. Alvaro told me.”

“Really?” Paulo gasped a little, even though he’d have liked to admit that he didn’t. “Did he tell you anything?”

“About you? No.”

“Oh,” he said, and shrugged.

After a few more minutes of silence Mario stood up and gave the back of Paulo’s neck a little friendly squeeze. “Look, I’ve to go now, but if you ever need to talk about anything you can call me. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said, and he really meant it, because even though Mario’s reaction was gargantuan he was only trying to help. And he had officially become the second person behind Alvaro to actually understand Paulo, whether Paulo liked it or not.

“Everything will work out,” Mario said, giving a little friendly wave before leaving.

And oh boy, Paulo sure hoped they would.


	5. The Heart Knows What It Wants

Alvaro stood next to Paulo as they watched Ana disappear into departures.

Paulo had this look on his face that Alvaro couldn’t decipher – it was weird, because over all this time there hadn’t been a look on Paulo’s face that Alvaro hadn’t been able to decipher. He attributed it to Paulo being upset about Ana leaving.

Alvaro had never understood how Paulo kept it all together. Paulo hadn’t complained even a little bit about how Ana was going to be gone for so long and how the discussion between the couple before Ana submitted her final decision to the dance studio was practically non-existent. Paulo never uttered a word about it.

“So,” he said cheerfully, to lighten Paulo’s mood. “What shall we do now?”

Paulo turned to him, and the look on his face deepened. He took a subtle deep breath, which he evidently hoped Alvaro wouldn’t notice but which Alvaro noticed anyway. “I dunno, what do you want to do?” he asked.

They had the day off from training and practically nothing to do, so Alvaro suggested they head over to his place and play FIFA or something, which Paulo agreed to. He seemed like he’d agree to anything at that point, really.

Paulo spoke voluntarily for the first time that day while they were sitting on the couch after Paulo’s Juventus had beaten Alvaro’s Juventus.

“Your birthday’s coming up in a week,” he said.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, already busy picking out his new foolproof Spanish team to beat Paulo’s lousy Argentinian team.

“How old are you going to be, like, twenty-six? I mean, you’re twenty-five now, right?”

Alvaro put his controller down and smacked Paulo on the shoulder as he burst into the exact laughter that Alvaro had missed so much. “Stop it!”

“Are you going to celebrate?” Paulo asked. “Like, I don’t know, a party or something.”

“Should I?”

Paulo shrugged. “I’ll help you plan, if you want.”

And Alvaro thought, why not, if it made Paulo happy.

FIFA forgotten, they spent the rest of that afternoon trading favourite cake flavours and party ideas, and eventually heading out to the bakery to extend their discussion to include the baker. By the end of the day, the both of them had quite a party planned out.

The problem was, they hadn’t thought to come up with a guest list.

When Paulo pointed that out, Alvaro just gave him one of those looks.

“I’m inviting everyone,” he said.

“Who’s _everyone_?”

“Our teammates. Some friends. My family, if they can come.”

“Okay, when are you going to tell them your party is in like, six days?”

“They’ll all make it. They love me.”

Paulo laughed. “Yeah?” he said softly. “I know.”

And Alvaro found that response a little weird, and Paulo realised that Alvaro found it weird, so after a few seconds of unusually tense silence Paulo got up and excused himself to the bathroom.

He didn’t reappear even after like, ten minutes, so Alvaro got up and popped his head around the bathroom door – which, in his defense, was wide open. Paulo was leaning against the sink, his head hung below his shoulders. The sink was running and his hair, face, and collar were completely drenched, like he’d been splashing a whole lot of water on them.

“Hey,” he whispered, gently placing a hand on Paulo’s shoulder. But even so, it startled him, and he hurriedly turned off the tap before swivelling around. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Paulo stammered, avoiding Alvaro’s eyes like it would cost him his life. “Just tired. Yeah.”

He was lying. Alvaro could see right through it.

“No, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Paulo insisted.

Alvaro grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out to the living room, pushing him so he’d sit on the couch obediently. “Is it Ana?” he asked.

Paulo shook his head.

“Come on. You know you can tell me anything.”

Paulo raised his wary green eyes to meet Alvaro’s before they slowly flitted around Alvaro’s face, like he was contemplating the truth of that statement. It made Alvaro extremely uncomfortable. Paulo had never hesitated to tell Alvaro _anything_. It was what Alvaro appreciated about their friendship. That they could trust each other so easily.

“It’s nothing,” Paulo finally said. “I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alvaro said in reply.

“Your choice,” Paulo said, and then removed his gaze from Alvaro’s face. He stood up and started walking towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Alvaro called after him. He stretched his hand out and managed to grab Paulo’s wrist before he got too far. He felt Paulo tense up beneath his grasp and simultaneously his own heart falling right to the ground, almost producing an audible thud.

“Home. I need sleep and then I’ll be fine.”

He was lying again.

“You can stay here. Like you always do.”

“It’s okay, Alvaro.”

“No, please. Please stay.”

Yes, he was being clingy as _fuck_ but he just couldn’t let Paulo leave for more reasons than one. He couldn’t let Paulo leave and be alone while he was upset. He couldn’t let Paulo lie his way through this and spend the night feeling as awful as he looked like he was feeling.

He couldn’t let Paulo leave because he didn’t think he would get through the night knowing that Paulo was hurting for some reason he refused to reveal. He couldn’t get through the night not feeling Paulo’s thigh against his or Paulo’s head against his shoulder.

And in that chaotic moment he realised – what if the reason he’d never met the right girl for himself was because he was meant to find the right _guy_?

And what if that right guy was Paulo?

Paulo was tugging at his wrist, trying to release it from Alvaro’s grasp. But Alvaro refused, pulling harder.

“Let go, Alvi,” Paulo said, softly so that Alvaro knew he wasn’t mad at him.

He didn’t let go, though. Instead, he stood up and walked with Paulo to the door, still grabbing on protectively to his wrist.

“Call me,” he said as Paulo stepped over the threshold.

Paulo gave him a small smile, and then turned and walked slowly down the street, his hands in his pockets.

And Alvaro sat in front of the TV watching nothing, wondering what had caused the change in Paulo’s mood, wondering if his feelings were playing games with him, and wishing that he could hug Paulo until he was calm again. Wishing he could hug Paulo to sleep.

\------

By the day of the party, everything was back to normal again. Like nothing had happened between the two best friends. Paulo seemed happy in training, like he’d put whatever trouble he had behind him. After they were dismissed, Paulo skipped up to Alvaro.

“Ready for your party, old man?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled, surprised and confused as to how things had changed. But as usual, he was just relieved to see Paulo smiling. He loved Paulo’s smile.

“Come on, let’s go back and get ready.”

Alvaro let him take the lead. He realised that as long as Paulo was smiling, he would be, too.

\------

Paulo collapsed on the guest room bed in Alvaro’s house after all the party guests had finally emptied the place.

“What a night, huh?” he commented as Alvaro jumped in next to him, sending him flying a few inches into the air. “Did you have fun?”

“A lot of fun,” Alvaro replied.

“Happy birthday, Alvaro.”

Alvaro turned his head so he was face to face with Paulo. He gave a big, grateful smile that sent Paulo’s heart aflutter. “Thank you, Pau. For organising this party. For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Paulo whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder he’d give away his emotions.

“Hey, Pau,” Alvaro continued. “You never told me…what happened. You know, on that day when Ana left and you were so upset about something you refused to tell me about.”

Paulo turned so he was lying flat on his back and facing the ceiling. He definitely didn’t want to talk about _that_. It was an embarrassing meltdown. “It’s really nothing. I was just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re never like that when you’re tired. You just lean on me and fall asleep.”

“Yeah?” Paulo said softly. Alvaro was right. He’d acted out of character. But he didn’t want to talk about it – simply because he knew that if he did, it would possibly ruin their friendship forever. His feelings for Alvaro were to belong to him, and only him.

Well, and Mario, of course. But that couldn’t be helped. That guy had like, a natural radar for the both of them.

“Was it because of Ana?” Alvaro continued. “Please, just tell me. It sucks to see you like that.”

Paulo sighed. He guessed it was _kinda_ about Ana. “Yeah, it was about Ana.”

“Oh,” Alvaro said. He sounded like he was unconvinced. “Well, I’m glad you feel better.”

“Thank you.”

“You know,” Alvaro started again, but paused like he was contemplating whether to venture any further. “I think I understand how it feels now. To, you know. Like someone in that way.”

“You do?” Paulo squeaked, feeling his heart skip a beat. “Who? Do I know her?”

There was silence from Alvaro. Just complete silence. Like Alvaro was already regretting having said so much to Paulo. Paulo turned to his side again to face him, and watched as his frustrated brown eyes manoeuvred past the thoughts in his mind, his eyebrows furrowing determinedly. Paulo loved Alvaro’s dumb thick eyebrows with the scar and the small tuft near the inside of his right one. He always fought the urge to run his fingers over them.

Then Alvaro finally spoke, “Pau, I’m going to tell you something huge, and I hope you won’t…judge me, or anything.”

“Yeah,” Paulo replied, so entranced by Alvaro’s eyes that he didn’t really recognise the weight of his statement.

“You’re the only person I think I can trust with this.”

“What is it?”

Alvaro’s eyes disappeared as he closed them and took a long, deep breath. Then he opened them again and looked straight into Paulo’s.

“I think…I think I might be into guys. Well, _one_ guy.”

Paulo’s eyes widened. His heart skipped another beat. He felt like he’d been waiting for Alvaro to say those very words but at the same time, hoping that he wouldn’t. He obviously hadn’t done enough thinking about his feelings.

“Like…” Paulo started, making a vague gesture with his hand, trying not to sound too judgemental – because he _wasn’t_. _He_ was the one who had those dumb feelings for his best friend. “Like, only guys? Or guys and girls?”

Alvaro’s nose scrunched up into a cute ball. “I haven’t thought about that.”

“So…who’s the guy in mind?”

Alvaro closed his eyes again, and a short period of silence passed in which Paulo wished he could dive into Alvaro’s mind and find out himself what was going on inside. He lay there, his face only inches away from Alvaro’s, and waited for Alvaro to speak, wondering if the words he spoke would make him sad or happy. If they would tear him into smaller pieces or put his pieces back together again.

When Alvaro finally opened his eyes again there was nothing but sorrow in them. Sorrow and hurt and desperation. Paulo hated seeing him that way.

“I’ve fallen for someone I can never have,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo felt the breath he was holding come out in jagged pants. He could feel Alvaro’s breath on his cheeks and he was sure Alvaro could feel his. He could see how much it took Alvaro to say those words. Part of Paulo wished that the someone was himself; another part of him wished it wasn’t. Because he would rather be just friends with Alvaro than nothing at all, even if it meant his feelings had to be kept secret forever.

There was a tense silence between them, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But the tension didn’t so much keep them apart as it pulled them closer.

So close that Paulo found his lips pressed against Alvaro’s.

The kiss deepened as suddenly as it started. Alvaro’s hands were seemingly _everywhere_ at once – on Paulo’s hips, on his shoulders, neck, hair, under his shirt. Like he couldn’t get enough of Paulo. Paulo found his fingers trying to grab Alvaro’s hair but only succeeding in scratching the growing stubble on top of his head, pulling and tugging at nothing. Alvaro always sent electricity through Paulo’s veins – right then, Paulo felt like he was being electrocuted.

Alvaro’s lips parted to welcome Paulo’s tongue; and oh, Paulo was into it. He was _so into it_. He’d never expected himself to be. He pressed his body hard against Alvaro’s, not an inch apart from their chests to their feet. They were both so desperate but so gentle and comfortable and familiar, like they just _knew_ exactly what worked, like they were just letting out all their pent-up tension.

Alvaro casually flipped over on his back, taking Paulo along with him so he landed on top of Alvaro, his hands now migrating to Alvaro’s perfect beard that was simultaneously callousing Paulo’s hands and face. It was the best friction Paulo had ever felt.

But it didn’t beat the one happening between their trousers.

Paulo felt Alvaro grunt into his mouth as he began grinding against him, so completely taken up in the moment that he could feel every single part of him that was in contact with Alvaro. His shirt was riding up above his chest and Alvaro’s arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, moving along to Paulo’s rhythm. For the past two weeks, _this_ was exactly what had been on his mind. Him and Alvaro.

Only when a loud vibrating sound came from the bedside table did the gravity of what they were doing finally hit Paulo.

He scrambled off Alvaro and onto his knees, pushing him away like he’d just realised he’d been sitting on some poison ivy. Alvaro propped himself up on his elbows, panting heavily and his face as red as a beet, as he watched Paulo lean over him and grab his phone from the table.

“Fuck,” Paulo muttered under his breath as he saw the lit-up screen. “Fuck.”

He pressed the call button. “Hey, Ana,” he said, trying not to pant too hard, and only bearing to shoot Alvaro a fleeting glance because Alvaro looked so _torn_ and Paulo wanted to kiss him some more even though he _couldn’t_. “Hey. How are you?”

He listened for a moment. “Yeah, I’m great, just –“ he glanced at Alvaro again. “– About to go to bed. Yeah, it was a long day…yeah. Take care. Love you, too.”

Alvaro was still staring at Paulo as he hung up. Paulo threw the phone back on the bedside table without looking, causing it to fall to the ground with a loud crash. Then he pulled his shirt back down and turned the other way, towards the front of the bed.

“Fuck,” he said again.

“Paulo,” Alvaro croaked, sounding as broken as he looked.

Paulo swept his hair back on his head, frustrated at the entire mix of emotions he was feeling. He couldn’t turn to face Alvaro. Not right then. Not right after what they’d just done and not when Paulo wasn’t yet ready to admit how much he’d enjoyed it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before standing up and walking over to pick his phone up from the floor.

“Pau, don’t be like this,” Alvaro called after Paulo as he continued walking towards the bedroom door, his voice shaking desperately.

“Like what?” Paulo whispered, because he didn’t know _any other way_ he could possibly be right then. He brought his hands to his chest in a bid to keep Alvaro from seeing how hard they were trembling.

But Alvaro didn’t hear him. “Stay. Please stay. Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal. I promise. We won’t do that again.”

Oh, but Paulo didn’t _know_ whether he _wanted_ to do that again. A part of him did, a part of him wanted to grab Alvaro and kiss him until his lips were sore, and run his hands over every part of Alvaro’s body until he could memorise every contour. But another part of him knew that all of this was never meant to turn out well. That same part was still shaken up by Ana’s call.

“See you at the match,” Paulo said, louder this time. Then he walked out the door, down the stairs, and into the chilly street.

And Alvaro dragged himself to his feet, trudged along the hallway back to his own room, and flopped over on his own bed, still in complete disbelief.

He drifted off to sleep in a pool of his own tears when he discovered that for some unfathomable reason, his pillow smelled just like Paulo.


	6. Running Back To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a soundtrack and it's In The Night by The Weeknd.

When Alvaro was brought in for Mario in the 76th minute of the match against Atalanta, he caught Paulo staring at him.

Paulo jerked his head away immediately upon making eye contact with Alvaro. He spent the rest of the match actively avoiding Alvaro. He stood at the other end of the line, as far as he could get from Alvaro, when they saluted the fans.

He sat forlornly in the locker room after his shower, oblivious to everyone else leaving for home. He was vaguely aware of Mario sitting down next to him again.

“Hey, congrats on the goal,” Mario said.

“Yeah, you too,” Paulo mumbled in response.

“How are you and Alvaro?” he asked kindly.

And just that single mention of Alvaro’s name made Paulo wince like a sharp object had just pierced his chest right where his heart was. He covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

“I fucked up,” he said into his palms.

“How badly?”

Tears started stinging the back of Paulo’s eyes and he didn’t dare to take his hands off because he was afraid that Mario would see. He was so _weak_ for Alvaro and he’d been such an asshole to him and he deserved all of this hurt, honestly.

“On that day, after you guys left the party. We kissed.”

“And?”

“And then Ana called. While we were…yeah.”

“Holy fuck, Paulo.”

“I know,” Paulo sobbed. “I know. And then Alvaro asked me to stay but I left. I haven’t talked to him since then.”

“Look,” Mario gently pulled Paulo’s hands off his face. “You have to make a choice. It’s not fair to the both of them. I know it’s hard to hear but you can’t keep leading the both of them on like this.”

“I think Alvaro likes me,” Paulo said, playing with his fingernails. “You know…in that way.”

“At this point I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

“You have to talk to Alvaro. Set things straight.”

“Fuck,” Paulo let out a ragged breath. “I can’t. I can’t talk to him. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“He already is,” Mario said, then seconds later his gaze suddenly shifted to the door behind Paulo.

Paulo turned and saw Alvaro standing in the doorway, fully dressed and his hair still damp, staring at the both of them. He turned back to Mario, who gave him a quick hug and a whisper of well-wishes before he stood up and left with his things.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said as he sat down next to him. Fuck, even the sound of his voice made Paulo’s heart go crazy. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” he said, and Alvaro gave a little ‘psh’ sound. After a brief period of silence, Paulo continued, “That guy you were talking about…that you had feelings for. Is it me?”

And he braced himself for the answer and the torrent of emotions that would befall him but no matter how much he prepared, he definitely wasn’t ready for his body’s reaction to Alvaro’s reply.

“Yes,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo could practically feel himself crumbling into little pieces. How could this be the only thing he wanted in this world, yet the only thing he _didn’t_ want?

“Paulo,” Alvaro’s voice cracked towards the end of the word. “I need to know. Was that night…was it just a mistake? Or do you feel this way too?”

And Paulo knew very well what his answer was. But in that moment he also knew that he didn’t want to continue hurting Alvaro and there was only one way in which he could stop dragging this on.

“It was a mistake,” he said, avoiding Alvaro’s intense eyes.

Alvaro said nothing. He just sat there with all his shower things in his lap and he said nothing, just stared straight at Paulo but even then his gaze wasn’t even focused anymore, like he was looking straight through Paulo. At that point Paulo wouldn’t have been surprised if he was.

But he would very much rather hurt Alvaro with this single blast than with various small blasts that would inevitably come along if he’d told Alvaro the truth. Even though now it was clear to Paulo that they had feelings for each other, it seemed to him that this entire thing would never work out. So it was better for Alvaro if he didn’t spend his time hanging on to the possibility that it would.

“Okay,” Alvaro finally said.

And then he stood up, uncharacteristically stuffed all his things messily into his bag, and left Paulo sitting there alone in his misery.

\------

Alvaro wasn’t angry because Paulo said he didn’t feel the same way about Alvaro as Alvaro did about him. He wasn’t angry because Paulo didn’t like him back. Because Paulo could like literally _anybody_ in the world and Alvaro would be happy because Paulo was happy.

He was angry because Paulo was lying to him.

After all this while, Paulo still didn’t realise that Alvaro could see through everything. He could tell within a snap of his fingers whether Paulo was lying. He knew that Paulo probably did it because he had Ana and he didn’t want to toy with Alvaro’s feelings. But he didn’t want his feelings to be toyed with _in this way_ either. No one liked being lied to, even if it was for their own protection.

So when the both of them were assigned the same hotel room again on their trip away to Sassuolo, Alvaro spent the day fuming at Paulo. And then he spent the _night_ fuming at Paulo _and_ fuming at Sassuolo because they’d beaten Juve and now Juve were stuck in 12 th again.

“You’re the one avoiding me now,” Paulo pointed out after numerous failed attempts to get Alvaro to respond to him.

“I don’t talk to liars,” Alvaro said, and that shut Paulo right up.

“Alvaro,” he finally said, but didn’t continue.

“I’m not in denial,” Alvaro continued. “I’m not demanding that you like me back. You can like whoever the fuck you want, Paulo. I just feel like I spent all my courage on telling you the truth about how I feel about you and all I got back from you was a lie. Look, Pau, I understand you have Ana and that’s why you don’t want to pursue this…this whatever that we have. I’m just disappointed that you didn’t think I was strong enough to take the truth.”

“I didn’t think you weren’t strong enough,” Paulo said. “I thought…maybe you would be better off without this. Without me. That if you thought I didn’t feel that way then you would forget this and we could move on without anyone getting hurt any further.”

“I’d never forget this,” Alvaro whispered. He hung his head in an attempt not to let Paulo witness his tears falling. “This…what I feel for you. I won’t forget it. It won’t go away, Paulo, no matter how much you and I want it to. I know _I_ want it to. You think I don’t know how this would be doomed for failure right from the start? I do, Pau, I know, but there’s this big part of me that still wants it, anyway.”

“Okay,” Paulo took a deep breath. “Okay. I do. I have feelings for you. And for some time now, I’ve been struggling with them. Not because I don’t want you – God, believe me, Alvi, I want you. But because this…everything. It’s too complicated. There’s Ana, for one, and there’s our careers. I don’t want to ruin your life.”

“Fuck, Paulo,” Alvaro breathed. “How did we get into this mess?”

Paulo gave a small laugh. “I don’t know, man. But I know you’re still my best friend in this entire world and maybe, maybe we can tide through this. You know? Maybe we can try to make things go back to normal if we face the fact that this is a dead end.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said in resignation.

“I’m sorry, Alvi. I’m so sorry.”

Alvaro stood up and walked over to Paulo’s bed, sitting down next to him. He wrapped his arms tightly around Paulo and felt him completely relax, his cheek resting on Alvaro’s arm. He turned and kissed the side of Paulo’s head as Paulo’s arms found their way around Alvaro’s waist.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Alvaro said.

“Can we try and put this behind us?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“I know it’s going to be hard. But I don’t want to lose you, Alvi. And I’m willing to take any shit that comes flying towards me.”

Alvaro laughed. “Yeah,” he whispered, and hugged Paulo more tightly against him. He just wanted to protect that little guy forever and ever. “Yeah, me too.”

\------

When Juve came from behind to beat Empoli away from home, Paulo scored the last goal to seal the deal and Juve won their second match in a row for the first time that season. Which was pathetic, really.

But Paulo had come in as a substitute for Alvaro and Alvaro had kissed his ear and whispered to him ‘good luck, mi corazón,’ and Paulo couldn’t think straight for the twenty minutes he was on the pitch because he thought he’d heard wrongly. And also because Alvaro had grabbed his neck really sensually and kissed him really hard in front of everybody and he couldn't stop thinking of that feeling, of being so close to Alvaro and having Alvaro hold him like that, his fingers so firm yet gentle on Paulo’s neck, even if it was only for the briefest moment. Thinking of whether everyone noticed or if no one did. And if it even mattered, because Alvaro kissed everybody.

But Paulo felt and knew that it was different with him. Alvaro was different with Paulo than he was with other teammates; he was passionate and tender and so incredibly careful with Paulo. And Paulo appreciated it, really, every single time. He pined for it. He wished Alvaro would touch him like that every day – scratch that, he knew Alvaro would. He wished Alvaro _could_.

Alvaro gave Paulo one of his big bear hugs after the match and everything was okay again when Paulo let himself drown in his favourite scent.

He saw Mario raising his eyebrows at him from across the room as he waited for Alvaro to gather all his shower stuff after the match – _God,_ that vain man – and shrugged in response. And then Mario looked teasingly furious because he wanted to know the latest scoop so Paulo pacified him by doing the texting motion.

Paulo started texting Mario when both he and Alvaro were settled in bed in their room, his fingers moving furiously because he wanted to get the point across in as few words as possible. Alvaro peeked over the gap between the two beds but failed to see the screen.

“Ana?” he asked softly.

“No, Mario,” Paulo replied, hitting send. “Uh. He knows. About us.”

“WHAT?!” Alvaro exclaimed. His mouth fell wide open. “You _told him_?”

“No, he asked me. He said it’s really obvious.”

“Well, fuck.”

“He’s not going to tell anybody.”

“I can’t believe he knows.”

“Well, he asked. And I don’t think I wanna fuck around with him.”

Alvaro burst into laughter. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Shit, Alvi,” Paulo sighed. He leaned his head back and slid further down the bed. “Mario knows. Even _Ana_ doesn’t.”

“Are you going to tell her?” Alvaro asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know, man. I don’t know.”

And then everything went quiet, but it wasn’t so much a tense silence as it was one of their regular comfortable ones, like they just enjoyed each other’s physical presence. They just sat there, staring at the TV, which by the way was _fucking turned off_. They were just staring at a black screen. But Alvaro couldn’t sleep if Paulo was troubled. Which he was.

“Pau,” he finally spoke after like, a half-hour. “Your birthday’s coming.”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled.

“How old are you going to be? Eighteen?”

“Fuck off,” Paulo burst into loud hearty laughter. “Stupid old man.”

And Alvaro looked so utterly _delighted_ that he’d managed to make Paulo laugh. He gleefully slid under his covers and closed his eyes. “Night, Pau. I owe you a party.”

Paulo fell asleep facing Alvaro, reflecting the stupid big smile that was on his face.

\------

Things went back to normal, miraculously, in the week leading up to Paulo’s birthday.

Ana and Paulo talked more over the phone while she was travelling. Alvaro and Paulo sat around playing FIFA again in the days they had off before they left for their respective national teams for the international break. Alvaro bugged Paulo incessantly about the party, which he’d decided to have after he returned from Colombia and Alvaro returned from Spain. Which was like, more than a week after his birthday, but as long as Alvaro had some fun planning it then Paulo was okay with whatever.

He was just glad that they were back to being best buddies again, that they could live with being completely comfortable about sharing everything with each other. Even their feelings.

The problem came when Alvaro found himself waking up at like, four in the morning, when it was night in wherever Paulo was, just so he could talk to Paulo on the phone. To send him to bed, in a sense.

“Alvi,” Paulo said one day over the phone, over a bout of sudden loud static caused by God-knew-what.

“Yeah?” Alvaro mumbled sleepily.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Waking up at ungodly hours.”

“To talk to you, Pau.”

“No, I know,” Paulo paused. “I mean. Why? We can talk, like, tomorrow. Or next week, when I’m back.”

There were a thousand things Alvaro wanted to say.

 _Because I spent four hours dreaming about you and I have to hear your voice before I can sleep peacefully again_.

_Because I wish you had to hear my voice before you sleep like I have to hear yours._

_Because I can’t go one day without listening to your voice, even over the fucking time zones._

_Because it’s so much easier to imagine that you’re here by my side when I hear your voice._

_Because I fucking miss you, Paulo._

But Alvaro just chuckled softly like the reasons didn’t matter, even though they did. They meant the entire world to him.

“You know why,” he whispered.

And then there was silence, but even the sound of Paulo breathing was enough to sooth Alvaro.

But Alvaro wasn’t asleep even though Paulo thought he was.

Alvaro wasn’t asleep when Paulo said softly, “I do. And me, too.”


	7. I frutti proibiti sono i più dolci

Alvaro was sitting on Paulo’s stoop when he returned from Colombia, even though it was like, eleven pm.

“I didn’t know what time your flight landed,” he explained as Paulo unlocked the door and let him inside. “Well, actually I did, but I didn’t want to seem so desperate, you know, or whatever.”

Paulo burst into laughter. He was glad they could at least joke about this. “Shut the fuck up, Alvaro.”

Alvaro gave a little laugh. “I ordered the cake. Invited the people. Everything.”

“Thank you,” Paulo smiled as they settled on the couch, shoulder-to-shoulder once again. Paulo felt like it’d been ages since they’d done that. He felt so _happy_ , so light and free and glowing to be by Alvaro’s side.

They sat and watched a random channel – Paulo didn’t care, he was more absorbed by the warmth of Alvaro’s body against his.

They’d been quiet for a while when Paulo said, “I met Ana while I was in Argentina.”

There was a long pause.

“Oh,” Alvaro said quietly.

“I didn’t tell her,” Paulo added.

“Oh,” Alvaro said again. “Why?”

“She’s working. She’s alone. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that right now.”

“Are you ever going to?” Alvaro asked, somewhat hopefully.

Paulo shrugged. He really didn’t know at that point. He didn’t know how everything was eventually going to work out. He didn’t know if everything was _ever_ going to work out. Even if he broke up with Ana, he and Alvaro wouldn’t have the _slightest_ bit of a chance against the media or the public eye.

But he knew, though, that he had to at least tell Ana. He had to stop being an asshole and leading everybody on. He just didn’t know when he was going to do it; if he would rather prolong Ana’s suffering or if he wanted to let her down all the way from halfway across the earth. It was a lose-lose situation.

“Look, Alvi, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m being unfair by doing this. But –“

“We need to think about the people around us,” Alvaro finished. “I know, Pau. I know.”

And Paulo was grateful he did.

So without the slightest thought, he found himself pressing against Alvaro and leaning closer towards him, lifting himself a little off the couch until he managed to kiss Alvaro softly on the cheek.

Alvaro closed his eyes and pushed his face gently against Paulo’s lips. Paulo felt the compression as Alvaro smiled, and fuck, Paulo’s heart was going to jump out of his chest any second because he realised his feelings for this man were so much more than he was willing to admit.

When he finally pulled away Alvaro’s eyes were still closed and he had the most peaceful look on his face, and _God_ , Paulo missed him so much. He knew he was taking the biggest risk by doing it this way. The biggest risk of hurting Alvaro, hurting Ana, losing everybody he’d ever loved. But he was so charged by these feelings that he wanted to bask in them right then, regardless of the long-term consequences.

Without opening his eyes, Alvaro reached over and found Paulo’s hand. He held on to it gently, but also urgently, like he felt the same way as Paulo about wanting to live this way thoroughly before it was too late.

And Paulo let Alvaro hold him, he let Alvaro hold him because he didn’t remember a time he felt that peaceful, that happy and he didn’t remember anyone else ever making him feel the way Alvaro did.

When Alvaro slowly fell asleep, Paulo found himself following right after; like they were one, both in heart and in mind.

\------

The party was perfect. Paulo had a big smile on his face the entire time, and Alvaro was so _incredibly overjoyed_ to see him that way. Paulo was a little ball of sunshine and Alvaro wanted him to stay that way forever.

Mario came over to them as everyone was preparing to leave, and he clinked his almost-empty beer bottle against Paulo’s. “Happy belated birthday, man,” he said.

“Thank you,” Paulo said, and then punched him on the shoulder like he wanted him to know that the gratitude was for more than just the wish.

Mario took a swig from his bottle as he stared at Paulo, and then his gaze shifted to Alvaro next to Paulo, and then back to Paulo again. “Uh. Does he…” he made a vague gesture towards Alvaro. “You know. Does he know that I know?”

Paulo laughed, and he sounded so delighted and innocent and Alvaro’s chest almost burst into flames. “Yeah, he does.”

“Pffft. You can’t even keep anything from him.”

“Why should I?” Paulo asked, and oh, Alvaro was thoroughly enjoying watching him behave like that, so carefree and teasing and _happy_. “Oh _fuck_ , this is getting so mushy.”

Mario laughed and then left after giving Paulo _and Alvaro_ each a hug. Paulo sat down on the couch as Alvaro busied himself with clearing up the place a little. When he was done being a neat freak, he beckoned Paulo to the room.

“Come on. I have something for you.”

Of course, Paulo was intrigued. He gladly scurried after Alvaro into the spare room – which by then was basically Alvaro’s – and sat down on the bed as instructed.

Alvaro pulled out a nicely-wrapped box from his bag – it was actually black and white striped wrapping paper, and Paulo bet he fucking stole it from the Juve fan shop, or whatever – and handed it to Paulo.

“Open it,” he said eagerly.

Paulo unwrapped it slowly, careful not to rip the wrapping paper – partly because he couldn’t bear to rip apart _any part_ of Alvaro’s present, honestly, and partly because he knew Alvaro hated it when people ripped their presents open.

Inside was a very meticulously hand-made scrapbook. _A fucking scrapbook_. It contained photograph after photograph of Alvaro and Paulo: before matches, during matches, after matches, eating, drinking, on aeroplanes, just hanging out playing FIFA, doing literally _everything_ together. There was probably a photograph for every other time Paulo and Alvaro were together.

Beside each photograph was a handwritten inspirational quote or a funny quote either of them said on the day the photograph was taken. Paulo took his time flipping through the entire thing, his smile growing wider past every page.

“Happy birthday, Pau,” Alvaro said, this dreamy smile on his face as he watched Paulo. “Belated, whatever. I know this is cheesy as fuck but hey, Paulo. Thank you for being my best friend in this entire world. Thank you.”

Paulo stopped for a moment at the final page, blinking his eyes a few times but the tears still falling down on the scrapbook.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, using his shirt to dab at the tears on the page.

“Hey,” Alvaro said. He took the scrapbook, closed it, and placed it on the table together with its wrapping paper. He gently grasped Paulo’s head – Paulo was so _small_ , one of Alvaro’s hands could nearly go all the way around his head – and pulled Paulo into his arms, holding his head against his chest.

“Thank you,” Paulo mumbled. “And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Alvaro said. He subtly planted his lips on Paulo’s hair. And left them there.

“But I am. I wish things didn’t have to be this way. I am so lucky, Alvaro, _so lucky_ to have you, to have found you and to be best friends with you and to have you…have you feel this way. But look at me, I’m a loser and a jerk and I’m a cheater. Every day I struggle with this, with you, with Ana, with _myself_ , and every day I struggle between wishing I’d never met you and wishing I’d met you earlier. I struggle with the thought of how things could have been should our lives not be the way they are right now. Fuck, Alvaro, I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what I should think, what I should feel, what is right and what is wrong. It hurts every day, every single day, Alvaro, looking at you and knowing that I can’t have you. I try to act like it’s okay but _it’s not_. And I have no idea if it will ever be.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Alvaro could say. He had no idea Paulo was keeping so many things to himself; Alvaro had always tried not to think too much about things because he always tried not to let external obstacles or uncontrollable feelings get to him.

But he was beginning to realise he couldn’t keep _this_ kind of feeling in check. The kind of feeling he had for Paulo. It was beginning to pour down on him, seeping in through the cracks Alvaro had tried so hard to seal. Paulo was taking over every part of his body. Of his mind. Of his _heart_.

“Please, Alvaro,” Paulo sobbed, and he was shaking and grabbing on to Alvaro’s shirt and pushing his tearful face into Alvaro’s chest, and Alvaro felt his heart break into a million little pieces. “Please. Please make this go away, make me feel whole again. Take away the pain. Please, Alvaro. Please.”

And Alvaro didn’t know what to do except to hold Paulo so tightly he felt his arms were going to break along with his heart, but even that didn’t manage to soothe Paulo. Paulo was so upset and Alvaro was, too, just looking at him, and he found himself wishing the same – that he didn’t like Paulo that way and Paulo didn’t like him, just because he wanted to see Paulo happy again, like he had been an hour ago.

But there was no other way they could have it. No way to go back to how everything had been. There was no way back. Only forward.

So he grabbed Paulo’s head again, and dropped his face to meet Paulo’s, and he felt a blast of electricity temporarily numb his entire body save for his lips as they crashed against Paulo’s.

Paulo let out a harsh breath directly into Alvaro’s mouth – _fuck,_ it almost sent Alvaro melting to the floor in a puddle. And then his hands were all over Alvaro, desperately feeling every inch of Alvaro’s body as if he would never have another chance.

Alvaro felt Paulo begin to loosen up and pour his everything into the kiss, like he didn’t give a flying fuck about any inhibitions he had just a few moments before. He pressed his body against Alvaro’s, straining to reach for more, for more of Alvaro’s lips and his hair and his beard and his body and just more of _Alvaro_ in general.

He found the small of Paulo’s back with his palm and pushed against it, bringing Paulo closer than he could get himself. Paulo gave a little whimper against Alvaro’s lips; he was so weak for Alvaro right then and Alvaro was thoroughly enjoying it because he was equally fragile, equally helpless when he came to Paulo. If Paulo was releasing all his feelings into that kiss, then Alvaro would, too.

So when Paulo parted his lips, Alvaro immediately obliged, letting his tongue wander the inside of Paulo’s mouth. He grabbed a fistful of Paulo’s hair and tugged at it, tilting Paulo’s face upwards and causing him to whimper again. And with that sound he felt his dick twitch a little in his pants, and _oh God_ , he sure wished Paulo hadn’t felt that.

But fuck, Paulo _did_ , he did and he gave a stupid little giggle into Alvaro’s mouth and _Jesus Christ,_ Alvaro was so embarrassed and he had to pull away from the kiss because he was blushing so hard.

Paulo started all-out laughing, and he was holding Alvaro by the shoulders and laughing like this entire thing, the whole situation, was actually laughable. And Alvaro wanted him to shut the fuck up so he grabbed the back of Paulo’s neck again and smashed his lips against Paulo’s.

Paulo was back into it right away, and he was still smiling like an idiot – like the idiot Alvaro loved so much – and as if he knew Alvaro was still embarrassed, he started rubbing his crotch against Alvaro’s, first gently and then slowly harder.

And Alvaro realised that Paulo’s dick was as hard as his.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he moved his lips along Paulo’s left cheek and below his ear. Paulo shuddered at the sensation of Alvaro’s stubble against his skin, wrapping his arm around Alvaro again and dragging himself into Alvaro’s lap, wrapping his legs around Alvaro’s waist like he was some sort of baby bear. “You want this?” he whispered into Paulo’s ear. “Paulo.”

Paulo shuddered again at the mention of his name. He nudged Alvaro’s crotch with his again, in reply.

Alvaro wrapped an arm firmly around Paulo’s waist, lifting him off the bed and slowly crawling to the top of it. He set Paulo gently down on the pillows, kissing him like his life depended on it, like his life depended on Paulo’s lips surrounding his.

When he slid his hands under Paulo’s shirt and slowly dragged it off, Paulo didn’t show any resistance. When he lowered his lips to Paulo’s chest and his abdomen, Paulo released a loud groan, and arched his back off the bed to get more, more of Alvaro’s lips and more of his _fucking beard_ all over his damn body.

“Alvi,” Paulo breathed, grabbing a handful of what hair was on Alvaro’s head and dragging Alvaro to face him. Alvaro tore his lips away from the bottom of Paulo’s abdomen to see Paulo gazing at him, his mesmerising green eyes filled with so much lust and want and just pure, raw, unfiltered _desire._ Paulo sloppily pulled Alvaro back up to eye level. “You sure?” he whispered, before his lips joined Alvaro’s again.

Alvaro nodded, his hands now travelling the sides of Paulo’s ribs. It was then Paulo’s turn to slip his hands beneath Alvaro’s shirt and slowly slide it off in the most sophisticated way ever while caressing Alvaro’s skin – and Alvaro was so happy, he was so happy even though nothing had happened yet because he simply felt so lucky to have Paulo, to be touched by Paulo that way and to be the target of so much affection. _Paulo’s_ affection.

They helped each other wriggle out of their pants, and then their underwear, and then they were completely naked – and Alvaro felt this exhilarating thrill rock his entire body. It wasn't even that they'd never seen each other naked before; they had, while showering or changing, but never, _never_ in this context. Never buck naked in front of each other all alone, all ready and _impatiently waiting_ to be devoured by each other.

As Alvaro was just there sitting on his heels and wondering what the first way he wanted to fuck Paulo was, Paulo suddenly reached up and cupped his neck just under his chin, squeezing violently like he was about to strangle Alvaro. He pulled Alvaro’s face down to meet his again, and started to kiss Alvaro roughly, his teeth grazing Alvaro’s lips and tugging on them. Meanwhile Alvaro subtly pushed his body downwards – and fuck, as his dick grazed Paulo's, Alvaro bucked forward violently and exhaled into Paulo’s mouth with a little moan.

Alvaro removed his lips from Paulo’s to glance downwards, and as he found and grabbed both their dicks in one handful he felt Paulo jerk forward like he had earlier. He moved his lips back to where they had been earlier under Paulo’s ear, with a soft ‘shhhh,’ and continued working on that sweet spot with his lips and teeth.

Paulo began to move his hips, thrusting himself along the length of Alvaro’s dick and within the circumference of his curled fingers; and Alvaro almost came right then, with the feeling of Paulo rock hard and bursting with precome rubbing against him, his lips desperately searching for something within Alvaro’s facial hair. With the thought that this amazing man felt as intensely about Alvaro as Alvaro did about him.

Then to relieve Alvaro of the carpal tunnel he was heading towards, Paulo reached downwards and took over – but he was so tiny and so were his hands, and they kept slipping so he settled with just holding Alvaro and stroking him rhythmically, at just the speed Alvaro wanted.

“Fuck,” Alvaro muttered, his body involuntarily arching off Paulo as a burst of sensation ripped through it. “Please. Please.”

Paulo scrambled around with his free hand and managed to bring Alvaro’s lips back onto his – it was just as well, because Alvaro was done with his hickey masterpiece below Paulo’s ear – and he whispered, directly into Alvaro’s mouth once again, “Come closer. Up. Towards me.”

And _God_ , Alvaro would literally have done _anything_ Paulo asked him to do right then, so he clambered over Paulo’s dick and sat on his abdomen. He was too tall to reach Paulo’s lips, though, but the good thing was that now he had a great full view of a thoroughly-aroused Paulo, and damn, was he _into it_.

Paulo gently nudged his dick between Alvaro’s butt cheeks, giving a soft sigh of relief as he began thrusting himself again to the rhythm at which he was stroking Alvaro. His sweaty hair was plastered in all directions across his forehead, and Alvaro couldn’t help but endearingly reach over and sweep it back, a tender motion amongst all the chaos between their bodies that he thought nothing of but which led Paulo to close his eyes and smile blissfully, pushing his head upwards into Alvaro’s grasp.

It was as if every part of Paulo’s body that Alvaro touched lit up. Alvaro gently ran his hand across Paulo’s cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, biceps, forearms, hips, abdomen, and back to his chest, and it was evident Paulo enjoyed every moment of it as much as Alvaro did. His lips fell open further every step of the way, his head thrusted backwards and the movement of his hand and hips getting more incoherent.

When Alvaro’s fingers started to graze Paulo’s nipples, _fuck_ , Paulo let out this extremely loud, sensual moan that seemed to echo off every surface, including Alvaro’s skull and chest. Alvaro pinched each of Paulo’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger, softly teasing them and thoroughly enjoying the look on Paulo’s face that came with it. Paulo was almost _unrecognizable_.

He pushed his butt further back so Paulo’s dick was gripped more tightly, and allowed Paulo to let his hands go and focus all his attention completely on pleasuring himself. Paulo grabbed Alvaro’s forearms, torn halfway between trying to stop him from torturing his nipples and wanting him to continue.

“Fuck,” Paulo whispered breathlessly, riding the fine line between pain and pleasure. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Alvaro let go of Paulo’s nipples and reached behind himself, finding instead Paulo’s ultra-sensitized balls, slick with how close he was, and cupping them gently in his hand, holding Paulo closer to him. Paulo gave a hiss followed by an inhuman-sounding growl, and thrusted his hips upwards harder, faster, slapping them against Alvaro’s bum, until he finally found his release.

And boy, was it a heavenly one. Alvaro found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Paulo as he convulsed under him, sending come all over Alvaro’s lower back, his face scrunched up in an expression that Alvaro wasn't sure was of exhilaration or of desperation.

When Paulo had calmed down slightly he cracked an eye open and smiled lazily when he saw Alvaro observing him. He returned his hand to Alvaro’s member as Alvaro adjusted his own position and leaned over to place his lips on Paulo’s, where they felt like they belonged.

Paulo began to slide his hand quickly along Alvaro’s length; he was almost violent, like he was desperate for Alvaro to find the same pleasure that he’d just experienced. With how spent he was, he didn't even notice Alvaro going back to work on that spot beneath his ear again, nibbling and biting and tasting his fresh perspiration. He wrapped an arm around Alvaro’s neck and kissed the side of it, little butterfly kisses under his jaw and along his jawline, finally reaching up to his cheekbones.

Paulo pressed his palm down on Alvaro’s dick, allowing Alvaro to fuck into his hand and his abdomen. But Alvaro was so close, Paulo only needed to squeeze slightly after a few thrusts, coordinating it with his other hand reaching down and cupping Alvaro’s balls. That was enough to unravel Alvaro, thread by thread, piece by piece, gasping into the pillow below Paulo’s head like he could legitimately feel his life being sucked out of him along with that orgasm.

“Paulo,” he whined, his body still shaking uncontrollably, a white stickiness joining both their abdomens.  He rested his entire weight on Paulo and Paulo was so numb and so intensely satisfied that he didn't even give a fuck. “Oh, fuck, Paulo.”

And Paulo was so happy that the first word to come out of Alvaro’s mouth after _that_ was his name. He nuzzled his face softly into Alvaro’s neck, smiling as he was tickled by Alvaro’s beard. He loved that feeling.

Alvaro raised his head to see that some of his come had landed on Paulo’s chin, so he grabbed his shirt from the floor and wiped it off, the both of them laughing stupidly like they'd just lost their virginities to each other.

Well, you know, in a way, technically they _had._

Alvaro sighed as he climbed off Paulo and lay next to him, instinctively curling up in a ball as Paulo lay still, gazing up at the ceiling. There was complete silence between them until Alvaro leaned over and kissed Paulo on the lips, more gentle than he had been for the last thirty minutes.

“Paulo,” he whispered, resting his face just barely an inch away from Paulo’s ear. “I know you can't say this back to me. I know you can't and you won't. But I’m going to say it anyway. Because I really need you to know this, Pau. I love you. I love you, Paulo.”

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut, his hand wandering and searching until it found Alvaro’s. He slid his fingers between Alvaro’s, and it felt so good, it felt like a perfect fit, like their hands were just _made_ to fit into one another.

The silence continued like it had been before Alvaro had spoken.

Then Paulo finally said, “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“If I forget all of this tomorrow,” Paulo said, pausing to take a deep breath. “Will you blame me?”

Alvaro knew it wasn't that easy. It was neither easy for Paulo to forget what they'd just done, nor was it for him to keep it in mind. But he knew that it had to be done. To protect Ana. To protect _Paulo_. So no matter how much it hurt, he would _never_ blame Paulo.

So he stroked the back of Paulo’s hand with his thumb, and he said, “No, I won't.”

And Paulo smiled, and in that one moment everything was perfect.

“But Pau,” he continued, and he felt Paulo tense up in anticipation of what was to come, so he cupped Paulo’s cheek with his free hand and made Paulo open his eyes and look at him. “Hey. If you’re going to forget everything tomorrow, can I kiss you some more?”

A wide grin split Paulo’s face as the tension dissolved, and he nodded eagerly, so they spent the next hour half making out and half just staring and smiling stupidly at each other.

At the end of the night Alvaro watched as Paulo fell asleep, knowing that when he woke up the next day everything would have changed and yet at the same time nothing would have, and he wasn't sure which was better.

And as he watched Paulo sleep he found himself falling deeper and deeper. Paulo was so beautiful; he was the most beautiful when he was sleeping and so blissfully unaware of it.


	8. Tainted Slate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for this chapter is Out Of The Woods by Taylor Swift.

Paulo shrunk away from Alvaro after that night, understandably.

Alvaro found himself keeping away, too – but only because every time he was near Paulo he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. He completely understood the consequences that came with that night, and on top of that Paulo had made it pretty clear that it was a one-time thing; nevertheless, he couldn’t help but pine for more. But Paulo seemed to be drifting away from him day by day and Alvaro found himself unable to think of any way out of it.

He found himself wondering if Paulo would ever tell Ana. Wondering if Paulo was really the guy Alvaro had put up on that throne in his mind. Because if he could bear to lie to Ana and to sleep with Alvaro while he was still with Ana, who really knew what kind of person he was?

But every time he saw Paulo all those doubts would be pushed aside like it was some automated mechanism in Alvaro’s head. He chose to believe that Paulo really was a good guy and that he was just doing this because he had no other choice. After all, Paulo had been right about everything being able to work out had they both not been in the situation they were in. If they hadn't met in the wrong place, at the wrong time. In the wrong life.

He chose to believe that Paulo would eventually find a way out for them both.

This was exactly why Alvaro didn't like to think about things too much. He didn't want his mind to manipulate Paulo into being a bad person when he knew very well deep inside how amazing Paulo was.

With what he’d found with Paulo, Alvaro began to be more open about talking about his love life. About no one, specifically, but he discovered he didn't feel annoyed whenever the other guys asked him about it or teased him about it or even showed him pictures of girls they wanted him to meet. Because he knew, he knew how it felt to have someone look at him in that way and he understood how this all worked. He knew that no amount of teasing or ogling would ever change the fact that he finally found a place where his heart belonged.

And he was incredibly lucky to have found it with his best friend.

He looked forward to matches when he and Paulo were playing together, and he’d get the chance to hug Paulo without either of them shrinking away. When he’d hold Paulo’s hand to salute the fans and nothing would be weird between them, like all the awkwardness and unanswered questions had all dissolved into the incredible footballing atmosphere. When he’d score or assist and Paulo would charge up to him with the proudest smile and pat him on the back of the neck because that was where he could reach.

He grasped at every opportunity to hug Paulo, and he was glad to see that maybe Paulo did, too. The both of them used their time at a match to make up for the time they were losing outside of it. The casual elbow-grabbing, hair-petting, hand-holding, head-kissing, and congratulatory hugs that lasted longer than they did with other teammates. They lived for all of those moments.

But sometimes, Alvaro missed his best friend.

They may have drifted closer regarding matters of the heart, but they were drifting further apart in everything else. Alvaro found himself thinking of Paulo whenever something happened, wanting to share it with him and laugh about it with him or listen to him tell Alvaro it was all okay.

So when they’d beaten Lazio in a huge match at the beginning of December and they were sitting silently in their shared hotel room again – the previous week they’d been at Palermo, and it was _horrible_ because Juve had beaten Paulo’s ex-club and Paulo was being extra moody on top of everything that was happening – Alvaro decided that maybe he missed Paulo too much to keep staying away.

“Pau,” he called over the gap between their beds, his voice embarrassingly breaking at the end of the syllable. He cleared his throat to regain some dignity.

“Yeah?” Paulo’s reply came instantly, like he had been waiting for Alvaro to speak.

Alvaro smiled. “Great goal.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered.

And then it was silent again, and Alvaro was just sitting there staring into the darkness wondering what to say next when much to his surprise, Paulo suddenly got up and crawled into Alvaro’s bed, nudging him a little to make space.

He leaned his head on Alvaro’s shoulder, and as Alvaro instinctively rested his cheek on Paulo’s head he caught Paulo smiling.

“You okay?” he laughed, playfully elbowing Paulo.

“Yeah,” Paulo’s smile grew. “Just missed this feeling. Hanging out with my best friend.”

And oh, Paulo was so strong and so mature but he was so troubled and it tore Alvaro apart to see it. It tore him apart because he knew, he _knew_ that Paulo loved him back but was too afraid to say it. Because Ana was still his girlfriend and that was one principle that Paulo couldn’t let go of. And he wished that things didn’t have to be this way, that Paulo didn’t have to carry the burden by himself – because shit, even if it killed Alvaro he would always, _always_ put Paulo’s happiness first.

And he knew Paulo would do the same for him. After all, Paulo was going through all this hurt _for Alvaro_. He could have walked away. He could have told Alvaro to fuck off and went back home and fallen asleep to his girlfriend’s voice but no, instead he chose to be with Alvaro even though it ripped him apart from the very root of his being.

Maybe Paulo _was_ being a dick to both Alvaro and Ana but Alvaro knew he would forgive Paulo every time. Besides, he was delighted that Paulo missed the best friend days, too. At least Alvaro knew he wasn't going crazy, or anything.

“How have you been?” Alvaro asked, and his heart sank a little at the thought that he actually had to ask that question.

“Good. Fine. You know,” Paulo shrugged. “As usual.”

And Alvaro knew very well what ‘as usual’ meant for the both of them at that point in time but he really, really just wanted to listen to Paulo speak. It didn’t matter what it was about.

So he said, “Tell me all about it.”

And they spent the entire night pressed from ankle to shoulder just like old times, squeezed together in that single hotel bed, talking about nothing.

\------

It was another satisfying win for Juve against Fiorentina in their last home game of 2015. Another satisfying goal for Paulo.

He stood under the stadium showers letting the warm water pelt his face, finally finding himself in a rare moment of peace – well, until Mario suddenly appeared behind him and poked that spot below his ear.

Paulo winced in surprise and annoyance, and swatted Mario’s hand aside. “What?” he demanded.

“What the fuck, Paulo,” Mario said in response. “Is that a hickey?”

Paulo’s hands immediately flew to that spot; it had been like, almost two weeks since Alvaro had given that to him but it was _still there_. Paulo managed to successfully hide it under training scarves but found himself stealing some of Ana’s old sweatproof foundation to cover it up during matches. He was literally using his girlfriend’s old makeup to hide the evidence that he’d been cheating _on her_.

“What, no,” he said indignantly, although it was like, super obvious he was lying. He turned back to face the shower wall, attempting to ignore Mario.

“It’s totally a hickey,” Mario grinned – but only for a few seconds before he started looking a little confused. “Wait, isn’t your girlfriend in South America?”

Paulo didn’t reply.

“Oh, my _God_ ,” Mario suddenly exclaimed in realization. “Paulo Bruno Dybala, did you –“

Then there was a mad scramble as Paulo practically pounced on Mario and tried to cover his mouth with his hands, which didn’t really work out because Mario was so tall and Paulo’s hands kept slipping around on all the wet skin, and everybody in the showers had turned around to stare at the two naked weirdos who were silently smacking each other’s hands and ducking each other’s slaps.

Except for Alvaro, fortunately, who when Paulo checked was standing under his own showerhead at the other end, quiet and reflecting.

“Fuck, stop,” Mario finally spoke, managing to grab Paulo’s hands and throw them back at Paulo’s side. Then he lowered his voice – lucky for him, for if not Paulo would have legitimately punched him in the face – and asked, “Alvaro?”

Paulo turned back to the shower wall, convinced that if he ignored Mario for long enough he would just go away. But five silent minutes passed and hell, that man was _patient_. He stood there staring at Paulo waiting for his reply and they were both completely naked and it was the weirdest thing.

“Fine,” Paulo gave a frustrated groan. “I slept with Alvaro.”

“HOLY FU –“ Mario yelled, but shut his damn mouth when Paulo shot him a fierce glare. He lowered his voice again. “You _slept_ with him? I thought you just, I don't know, made out or something. Not that that's okay, because what about Ana?”

Paulo just shrugged. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, because God, he sure cared too much. He just didn’t know what do with his life any longer. He wanted Alvaro so badly that the very thought of him shook all his bones. _He loved Alvaro_ and it was the only thing sustaining him; the overwhelming joy and the accompanying hurt were the only things reminding him that he was alive.

“Paulo,” Mario said, and he sounded a little fierce but also like he was trying not to be. “All of you are going to get hurt if this continues. You’ve dragged this on for too long.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Paulo asked. “I do. I would do _anything_ to make sure Alvaro isn’t hurting. You know? But Ana is all the way over at the other side of the world and even if I feel this way for Alvaro now, it’s just basic humaneness not to let her down this way over the phone. Ana has been with me since Palermo, Mario. She means a lot to me, even if it’s in a different way from before.”

“So you’re choosing Alvaro?”

“How could I not?” Paulo smiled, and he found himself turning and staring longingly at Alvaro – who was still naked and showering, but that was beside the point – which led to Mario staring at _him_ judgmentally.

“Okay, fuck, chill with the heart eyes, I get it,” Mario said. He looked a little disturbed by how Paulo was staring at Alvaro, and that made Paulo burst into laughter.

“I just hope this will all be over soon, you know?” Paulo said once he'd calmed down enough.

“Will it ever be over? Have you thought this through? What your decision means?”

“Yeah, _dad,_ ” Paulo rolled his eyes. He’d probably done more thinking about this entire thing than he’d done on all the other big decision in his life combined.

“Look, if you two are gonna do this, you gotta tone it down a little,” Mario said. “I saw you during the match. After you scored. You two were like, practically dry humping on the pitch, fuck, Paulo.”

“We were _not_ ,” Paulo retorted. He could barely contain his smile when he thought of it – not because he’d scored a goal but because Alvaro had run up to him and pounced on him while he was lying on the ground. He liked that feeling. The feeling of Alvaro’s weight resting on him. He hadn’t felt Alvaro that close to him since that night they’d had sex. And he’d been pining for that feeling every day since.

He sighed. Things between him and Alvaro were so different. Sometimes they were up, but most of the time they were down. Paulo had begun to look forward to matches just so he could touch Alvaro and be sure that neither of them would pull away. He wanted to talk to Alvaro, to laugh with him and curse at him in Spanish. He wanted everything to go back to the way they had been before, the two of them just hanging out without any sort of tension between them. But at this point he wasn’t sure if going back was an option.

He was glad Alvaro understood why he didn’t say I love you back but he hoped Alvaro wasn’t mad. Because all Paulo had wanted to do since the time he found out he had feelings for his best friend – the _only_ thing that had been on his mind every time he saw Alvaro – was to tell Alvaro that he loved him. But he couldn’t do it before he ended things with Ana. Before he got himself his clean slate and got himself ready to face all the shit with Alvaro by his side.

Mario seemed to get that Paulo had fallen deep into his thoughts. He gave Paulo an encouraging pat before wrapping himself up in a towel and leaving. “Paulo, you're a smart boy. You'll figure it out.”

But the truth was, Paulo was afraid that he’d figure it out. He was afraid that when he finally got a grip on reality, he’d realise that the inevitable end to their tale was that him and Alvaro would drift apart because they'd both discover that they were never meant to be.

\------

Ana returned to Turin about a week before Christmas. She looked even more tanned than when Paulo had seen her in Buenos Aires. She looked radiant. Happy.

Paulo sat patiently and listened to all the stories she was willing to tell. It was a hugely successful tour, especially since Ana had only recently joined the dance studio. Ana had met so many new people and done so many things.

A little part of Paulo wondered what it would have been like had he been able to follow her, like a dance groupie. He knew that maybe a few months ago he would have been willing to do that, if it didn't interfere with his football. But right then, he wasn't so sure.

“How have you been?” Ana asked; she’d been home for like, three days, and Paulo still couldn’t bring himself to look straight into her eyes.

He shrugged. “I’ve been good.”

“You look troubled. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Paulo took a deep breath; maybe this was the right time to start talking. But all he could bring himself to say was, “Ana…”

Ana stared at him for a few moments. “Has anything changed?” she asked. “You know…between us. I mean, I know you didn’t exactly want me to leave, and I didn’t exactly talk to you about it. I’m sorry.”

Oh, she was making this a hundred times harder than it already was.

“Ana,” Paulo said again, and he looked down at his lap to avoid the intense gaze Ana was laying on him with her pretty brown eyes. “I…I have to talk to you about something.”

Ana reached over and took Paulo’s hand in hers. “What is it?”

Paulo slid his hand out of hers and grabbed her wrist instead. “While you were gone,” he started, and he felt her tense up, like she _kinda, sorta_ knew what was coming. “I think things changed. Between us. I think I changed.”

“In what way?” she whispered.

“I feel…different. About you,” he said, still avoiding looking at her. “But not in a bad way, you know? Just…just not that kind of spark any more. It’s not you, Ana, I swear to God, this sounds so fake but it really isn’t you. It’s me. I’ve changed and I’ve…figured out what I really want.”

She still didn’t pull her hand out of Paulo’s grasp. She just sat there staring right ahead in front of her, before finally saying, “Is there someone else?”

Paulo closed his eyes. He hung his head. But he couldn’t ignore the hole that her voice was boring in him. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Who is she? Do I know her?”

“No. Yes. Well, kinda,” Paulo said, flustered. For all the planning he’d done he hadn’t thought that he’d receive that question. How _stupid_.

“Paulo,” Ana said, and poked Paulo’s chin a little so he’d finally look at her. “Hey. I understand. Three months is a long time to be apart and we just…drifted, I guess.”

“I really, really like you, Ana. Just not in the same way as before.”

Ana smiled a wry smile. She just smiled and said nothing at all.

“I’m sorry,” he added.

“This new girl,” Ana said instead of acknowledging his apology. “Will you tell me who she is?”

“Ana,” Paulo said. He really didn't know how to answer that.

There was silence from both of them, Ana staring straight into space and Paulo sitting there, lamely holding on to Ana’s wrist. And then Ana spoke again, coldly asking, “Did you sleep with her?”

Paulo’s hands began shaking and he removed them from anywhere near Ana. She was still staring – or _glaring_ – at him, waiting for an answer, although they both knew that Paulo’s silence basically meant that the answer was yes.

“I'm sorry, Ana,” Paulo finally said, and Ana shut her eyes and shook her head at that confession. “I know I’m at fault here and the fact that you were on the other side of the world doesn't give me any excuse. I'm sorry. I really am, Ana, I never meant to hurt you and I’ve spent all this time dealing with these feelings and I still am, fuck, I still am dealing with these feelings and I don't know when this will end. Ana, I'm sorry. I understand if you're mad.”

Ana remained silent for a while, and Paulo could literally hear the clock ticking from across the room and his heart fell further with every tick of the second hand.

“When did this happen?” she finally asked.

“Just a couple of weeks ago.”

“And your feelings…before you had sex or after?”

“Before,” Paulo said, and for some reason he felt relieved, like all he'd ever needed was to talk this out, talk about everything that had been messing with his head for the past three months. “It was way before, Ana, I didn't even notice it. I don't know how it happened. I never knew…I was capable of those emotions, of so many of them at once.”

Ana’s eyes were still closed, and tears began falling out of them and she tried to wipe them away but Paulo beat her to it. He cupped her cheek with his hand, feeling eerily that it probably was the last time he was going to do so. “Ana, I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“No, I…” she exhaled loudly. “I know we drifted apart. I understand that maybe that’s why you realised what you want and that it’s not me. I came back home anticipating that this conversation would happen. I just…didn't expect it to be this. Sleeping with someone else. I didn't expect it to be so much.”

“I'm sorry. I really am. I understand if you can't forgive me.”

Ana remained quiet. She seemed calm. Too calm. It terrified Paulo.

“I'm really sorry,” he said again. “That I didn't tell you earlier. I just felt…so horrible, you know? At the thought of letting you down all the way from across the Atlantic, while you were working alone and without family. I'm really sorry, Ana. I'm not giving myself any excuses. I know I'm completely at fault.”

“Are you going to be with her?” Ana asked. She still looked calm and Paulo couldn’t read her eyes at all, and he was afraid there would be a sudden outburst from her. “Do you really…” she began to choke back tears. “Really love her?”

“I do, you know?” Paulo said softly. He was still afraid but he just had to say it, he just had to say the words he’d never told anybody but felt so intensely. “I really do love him.”

There was silence. Complete silence.

And Paulo thought, _oh, fuck_.

“Her,” Paulo corrected himself. “Her. I meant her.”

“It's a _guy_?” Ana exclaimed.

“No, no, I meant her,” Paulo said, flustered. He could feel his neck and cheeks turning red. Ana was just staring at him with her mouth wide open and right then he knew her too well to expect that she would believe him if he denied it. So he said, “Fuck. Yes, it's a guy.”

“Holy shit, Paulo!” she yelled, and what the hell, why did _everyone_ Paulo told have _the same reaction_? “Is it me? Did I make you lose hope in all women?”

“No, Ana, fuck,” Paulo said, but Ana actually burst into disbelieving laughter and the entire situation was just so confusing to poor Paulo.

When her laughter subsided Paulo saw the actual _bitter_ look on her face. She looked miserable and this entire thing was all Paulo’s fault and he hated that he made her feel that way. Even if they weren’t a couple anymore, Paulo still really cared for Ana and if he could have had things his way, he would have chosen not to hurt _anyone_ even if it meant he bore the hurt of three people himself.

“Ana,” Paulo said when Ana didn’t do or say anything further, just sat there staring ahead again for like, five minutes straight. “If you want to get mad and yell at me or hit me or anything, I understand. And you can do it. Okay?”

“I know who it is,” she suddenly whispered, looking Paulo straight in the eye. “It’s Alvaro. Isn't it?”

Paulo didn't reply.

“It's been right in front of me all along,” she continued, now with tears falling out of her eyes again and rolling down her cheeks. “All the touching. The smiling. The looks you two shared. I felt left out sometimes but I thought it was just because you were both guys. I never thought…that you'd be…”

Paulo moved over closer to her and attempted to wrap his arms around her but was only pushed away.

“He was so close to us,” she continued. “The both of you…the _both_ of you betrayed me. It's not just you. This…I don't know, this whole thing is so fucked up. Maybe it’d be better if it was someone I don’t know. But it's Alvaro. Fucking _Alvaro_. Always our third wheel, always there, always, and I never noticed. How could I have been so blind? It was so obvious. And I didn't see it coming.”

“Ana, I'm sorry.”

“Did you fuck him in our bed?” she asked, so agitated her face had turned red. She used the back of her hand to wipe her face dry but only succeeded in smudging all her tears all over. When Paulo didn't say anything, she yelled, “Fuck, Paulo!”

“No,” Paulo whispered. He tore his gaze away from Ana and hung his head. “The other room.”

“Fuck,” she muttered, and then got up and grabbed her jacket, dropping her keys on the floor and cursing some more when she bent over to pick them up.

“Ana, no, wait,” Paulo hopped over all the furniture and grabbed her wrist. “Stay. I'll go.”

“I'll be gone by tomorrow,” Ana said. Her back was still turned towards Paulo and her shoulders were heaving with sobs and Paulo really just wanted to hug her but when he tried, he was pushed away again.

“You don't have to. I'll move out,” Paulo offered.

“No, fuck off, I can't live in a house where you fucked Alvaro in the guest room.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Paulo called after her as she flung his hand aside and started walking towards the bathroom. “I really am, Ana, I really, really am.”

And those were the very last words he spoke to her, because she slammed the bathroom door in his face. He stood outside of it for a few minutes, listening to her sob inside and feeling his own tears pricking the back of his eyes and a few seconds later, rolling down his cheeks.

He eventually trudged back into his and Ana’s room and gathered some clothes into a bag. Then he took one last longing look at the closed bathroom door before stepping out the front door.

Paulo thought about just walking down the street to Alvaro’s place, telling him he loved him, and then falling asleep in his scent. But two things stopped him: his respect for Ana, and the fact that he hadn’t spoken to Alvaro for more than a week and he wasn’t sure if Alvaro even wanted to see him at all.

So he fished out his phone and dialed the number he’d already memorized by heart. It was evident Alvaro answered the call without looking at the screen, because he sounded surprised to hear that it was Paulo on the other end.

“Can I come over?” Paulo asked.

There was a long pause. And some noise in the background, like Alvaro had some guests over. Indeed, he said, “Not now. I have some people over. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Paulo said, and then there was this torturous long awkward silence that was unlike any other silence they’d ever had, before he hung up the phone.

He got in his car and drove around Turin in circles until he got to the city border. He drove until his car ran out of gas and he sat in it on the shoulder of a desolated highway. He started crying because it was two in the morning and Alvaro hadn’t called. And he started crying because it was the loneliest night of his life.


	9. I Lose It All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's soundtrack is Hotel Ceiling by Rixton.

Paulo was in no mood to celebrate their win in the last game of 2015. He’d requested for a room by himself but they’d put him with Alvaro. Again.

He lay in bed with his back to Alvaro and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of Alvaro’s presence practically boring a hole in his back. He succeeded, for the most part, until just as he had been about to fall asleep and Alvaro completely jolted him awake by calling, “Pau.”

And Paulo hadn’t heard Alvaro say his name for like, _eternity_ , and the sound of it made his heart fall to the ground and his eyes moist with sudden tears. “What?” he replied.

“Great game.”

“Thanks.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Alvaro continued. “My cousins were over. They stayed till the next morning.”

“It’s okay,” Paulo said, even though it wasn’t. Yes, he’d received an explanation for Alvaro blowing him off, but it still didn’t make things okay.

“Paulo,” Alvaro called again. “Pau, talk to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Paulo said, because frankly he was tired, he was just so tired of everything and he didn’t want to think about it all. Even though he had a million things he wanted to say to Alvaro, he was just utterly exhausted, mentally and physically.

“Okay, well, then,” Alvaro sounded intimidated by Paulo, for some reason. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Tomorrow, okay?” Paulo sighed. “I’m really tired.”

Alvaro didn’t reply. Instead, after just the slightest hesitation, he got up and went over to Paulo’s bed, nudging him so he could crawl in next to him.

“What are you doing?” Paulo asked, now more than just a little annoyed. It wasn’t just that he was tired; it was that every place on his body Alvaro touched seemed to burst into flames. It was that Paulo found himself thinking back to the night of his birthday party every time Alvaro was around and he felt his body tingle because he wanted more of that but it seemed like things between him and Alvaro had changed multiple folds in the month that separated that night and then.

Alvaro said nothing, just bundled Paulo into his arms and held Paulo’s head against his chest. Paulo could hear Alvaro’s heart beating; it made his own heart flutter. Paulo felt like he couldn’t breathe, being so close to Alvaro once again, taking in his scent, his breath warming Paulo’s forehead, his arms protectively surrounding Paulo, one around his shoulders and the other hand pressing warmly on Paulo’s cheek.

But he found himself moving to hug Alvaro tightly around his waist, anyway, because _God,_ he missed this. Even though he was angry and tired and sad and just coming to terms with everything that happened with Ana, he found this strange sense of peace that came with Alvaro, even though neither of them uttered a single word, just sat there tangled up in each other.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He just wanted to feel Alvaro’s name on his tongue.

“Shhh,” Alvaro whispered back, into Paulo’s hair. “Just sleep.”

And just like Alvaro’s voice was a mantra, Paulo found himself falling into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in weeks, in his favourite place in the entire world.

\------

Paulo headed out to Juve’s Christmas party feeling much more clear-headed than he’d been since before – well, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been that refreshed. He finally knew what he really wanted. And he was finally going to get it. He finally realised that no matter how many fires he had to fight, he _wanted_ Alvaro and he was going to _get him_.

He stepped out of the house in the dark grey shirt he’d worn when he first met Alvaro at the Juve training center, when he’d lost his way while looking for the admin office. He thought of how practically everybody on the team had girlfriends or wives and Alvaro and him were the only single people who were going to be there.

He secretly hoped something would come out of that by the end of the party. Something on the lines of what happened at the end of Alvaro’s birthday party. Or Paulo’s own birthday party.

So he really wasn’t expecting to walk into the private bar and see Alvaro standing among a big group of teammates _with a girl on his arm_.

Paulo’s heart fell. It _literally fell_ right to the ground and even though Alvaro was across the room, Paulo felt like he’d just trampled all over it.

She was gorgeous. Tall and brunette and wearing a short black dress and dark red lipstick, and smiling a stunning smile at Alvaro as he spoke. She was everything Paulo wasn’t, obviously. And she had everything Paulo wanted but couldn’t have; she had the chance to hook her arm in Alvaro’s and stare at him like he was the most amazing man in the universe. She could be in public with him, kissing him and hugging him and not have anyone questioning her right to. She was beautiful and she could give Alvaro publicly what Paulo could forever only give him in private.

It made Paulo sick to the stomach. Sick with jealousy and bitterness and _anger_ at why it all had to turn out that way. Sick at the thought that he could have prevented ever witnessing this scene had he not been so _fucking petty_ and headed over to Alvaro’s place on that night he broke up with Ana. Sick at the thought that he ever took the time to contemplate if he wanted Alvaro as much as he thought he did. Because he already _knew_ he did and if he’d just grasped the opportunity right away, Alvaro would be his right then.

He found himself drifting towards Alvaro, although he tried so hard not to. It was as if he was just floating in their general direction. He found himself wedged in between Gigi and Paul, who gave him hearty slaps on the back when they noticed he was just standing there quietly. Mario was there, too, and he discreetly made his way over and squeezed in next to Paulo for moral support.

Alvaro’s face fell the slightest when he saw Paulo. Like the idiot hadn’t expected to see Paulo there. Which was completely stupid.

“Paulo,” he said in greeting, his voice steady, like this entire thing meant _nothing_ to him.

Paulo said nothing. He just stared straight at Alvaro. It wasn’t that Paulo wanted to throw a tantrum in front of _all those people_ , but he just didn’t know what else to do or say. He hoped tears weren’t falling out of his eyes, because God, he would _never_ live that down, ever.

The tensest silence descended on the previously rowdy group. You could almost pluck the tension between Paulo and Alvaro like a string.

Paulo was snapped back into reality when Mario grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

“Look, it’s just some stupid dare, or whatever,” he told Paulo.

“A _dare_?” Paulo asked; he wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.

“I don’t know everything. But I heard some of the others saying Alvaro told them they’d never find a girl he likes, and so they made him give them a list of what he was looking for and they dared him to take her to this party if they found a girl that matched everything on the list. And I guess they did. Which is why she’s here.”

“Fuck him,” Paulo muttered, his teeth gritted and his fingernails digging into his palms. “Fuck him. Fuck Alvaro.”

“Hey, calm down,” Mario grabbed two glasses of champagne, forced Paulo to hold one, and dragged him to a quiet corner. “There’s media at this party.”

Paulo went quiet, for he knew if he uttered another word he would literally burst into tears. He put the glass to his lips and gulped all the champagne down in one breath.

“Man, you really gotta chill,” Mario said, and then uttered something about how Paulo was so small but so fiery, which Paulo didn’t really catch because it was rather noisy and he was rather distracted.

Mario was the only other person without a date – he wasn’t single but he didn’t like his girlfriend being at public events. So Paulo spent the next hour or so following Mario around like a lost duckling. Everywhere Mario went, Paulo did, too. He even stood outside the restroom like a guard when Mario went. Mario didn’t seem to mind.

Paulo posed for photographs when he was asked to, wearing a smile on his face like it was a mask, standing next to Alvaro and feeling the heat between them and pretending everything was okay even though both their smiles were anything but genuine.

Everywhere Paulo looked, there Alvaro was. With his girl. Every time Paulo saw them it was like he got punched in the gut. He didn’t know if he was just ultra-sensitive to Alvaro’s presence or if they were just literally flitting from circle to circle like a real couple.

With Paulo’s luck, maybe by the end of the night they _would_ be a real couple.

Mario and he eventually ended up on the balcony for fresh air, a glass of wine each in their hands. Paulo gave a sigh. He hadn’t spoken a single word since that outburst of swearing at Alvaro. He still didn’t want to. But it was rather unfair to Mario, who probably came to the party to have some fun but ended up with a little pest following his every step.

So Paulo opened his mouth to say something, some random small talk, but before he managed to start, the balcony doors suddenly burst open, revealing some of the party noise that Paulo surely hadn’t missed.

And out walked Alvaro and his girl, arm in arm again, smiles on their faces like they just had a great talk and were looking to get some privacy. To make out or whatever.

Paulo felt bile rise in his throat, and he snapped his mouth shut because he literally felt like he was going to throw up. He stormed to the door, which Alvaro and the girl were only halfway through, and practically shoved them aside in order to get away from them. He couldn’t control the tears anymore, and fuck, it was so embarrassing.

He hung his head to hide his face as he snuck by all the noisy groups of people. He managed to get to the drinks table unnoticed, put down his half-finished wine, and steal like, four bottles of beer and a bottle opener. Then he ran out the back door of the bar and sat down on a brick in the back alley, finally letting all his tears flow, gasping for breath at every sob but even if someone had walked out after him right then, the pain of the embarrassment would be a thousand times better than the physical pain in his chest.

He popped open a bottle and started drinking from it – although _drinking_ would be an understatement because he emptied the bottle within like three seconds before starting on another. Maybe drinking would help him forget. It was the winter break, anyway, and he could afford it.

Then the door behind him opened and Paulo braced himself for the worst but it was actually only Mario, who found another brick and sat down next to Paulo.

“You okay?” he asked kindly.

“I’m fine,” Paulo choked, half on his tears and half on how quickly he was swallowing the beer.

“You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

And Paulo didn’t want to talk about it but at the same time he did. He set the half-empty beer bottle on the ground and took a deep, raspy breath.

“Ana and I broke up,” he said.

“Shit,” was Mario’s response.

“It hurts, you know? The way I left her. The way things turned out between me and her. She still means a lot to me and I hate myself so much for what I did to her. What I put her through. And she is never going to speak to me again and she will never understand how sorry I am.”

“Does Alvaro know?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Paulo closed his eyes as he continued speaking. “I haven’t told him. We haven’t really talked much. Or at all. And now I feel like I’ve lost him too and I’ve lost _everybody_ , Mario, everybody I care for and I’m left with _nothing_ now. Nothing. No Ana. No Alvaro.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Paulo.”

“What have I done?” Paulo sobbed. “I’ve lost everything. I love Alvaro. I love him and I know Ana and I didn't work out because I cheated on her but I had wanted to break up with her for a bigger reason and that reason is that I want to be with Alvaro. I know we have to keep it private all the time and we can never do anything in public but I'm willing to do that. I'm willing to do anything for Alvaro. But now he has this girl, and he looks so happy with her and fuck, believe me, I want him to be happy. But some selfish part of me thinks that he can find that happiness with me. I've seen it before, on his face, and it's literally the best fucking thing in the world. But now it hurts, it hurts so much and I don't even remember a day when it didn't hurt. Everything fucking hurts.”

Mario wrapped an arm around Paulo and dragged him against his chest in a hug. “You're going to be okay,” he said, jiggling Paulo around like he wanted to gently knock some sense into him. “Okay, Paulo?”

“Am I?” Paulo asked. “Am I really? I have no one now, Mario, I lost the both of them and now I'm alone. I fucking lost everything I had. Everything I built up for myself. All for nothing.”

And Mario decided that it was best to let him continue his teary rant, so he just sat there with his arm around a shaking Paulo, listening to him choke on his words.

“Now I know how they felt,” Paulo continued. “When Alvaro saw me with Ana. It's exactly how I feel right now. I put him through that, I fucking put him through that and it's no wonder he hates me. And when Ana found out I cheated on her. This is how she felt. Look at me. I'm an asshole and a fucking cheater and I've done all these things to people who don't deserve them. I never thought my life would end up like this. I’m not a bad person, Mario, but now I'm a big fucking mess.”

And Paulo picked up the beer bottle he was halfway through and swallowed what was left inside while trying to ignore the feeling of it burning his fucking throat off. Every other cavity in his body was already burning. One more wouldn't matter.

With a loud frustrated yell, he smashed the empty bottle into the ground, sending it flying everywhere in an explosion of brown translucent glass.

“Fuck,” Paulo said when he saw that his right palm had a huge gaping gash over it. He raised his palms and face towards the heavens, like he was asking for a reason why things turned out the way they did. “FUCK!”

And he was hopeless and helpless and so fucking desperate, even though at that point he no longer knew what he was desperate about. He tried to wipe his palm but winced when it stung.

“It fucking hurts,” he sobbed. “Everything. Everything hurts.”

“Jesus Christ, Paulo,” Mario remarked. He grabbed Paulo’s hand and removed the little shreds of glass. “I'll go get a first aid kit. You stay right here. Right here, you hear me, or I'll fucking hunt you down.”

And he stood up and disappeared into the bar, and honestly Paulo was just so exhausted he couldn't move anywhere even if he wanted to. He opened another bottle of beer and gulped down a mouthful, some of the alcohol dripping into the open wound and making him curse some more. But even then he was appreciative of that pain; literally any sort of pain would save him from the one trying to rip him apart from the chest.

When Mario didn't return for ten minutes, Paulo decided fuck the blood, so he rested his arms on his knees and buried his head in them, crying and crying even though his chest was so tight and he couldn't breathe. He thought maybe if he were to curl up and die right then, he wouldn't have minded.

After about ten minutes of silence, of eerie silence save for the vague bass beat from inside the bar, Paulo’s loud sobbing and sniffling, and the deafening thoughts in his head – Mario finally pushed the door open again, and sat next to Paulo without a word.

He grabbed Paulo’s injured hand from below his face and gently wiped it clean using a towel, pressing softly until it stopped bleeding. Paulo winced when he dabbed at it with an alcohol swab, but he didn't raise his head or turn to look at Mario because fuck, he was a huge bloody mess and even though Mario didn't seem to mind, Paulo had to hang on to every shred of dignity he had left.

After cleaning Paulo’s wound he delicately applied some antiseptic, and then, with the deftest, gentlest fingers, wrapped a bandage around Paulo’s hand and secured it. Then he squeezed Paulo’s hand gently as if to let him know he was done.

“Thanks,” Paulo mumbled.

“You're welcome,” Mario whispered, except that it wasn't Mario’s voice, and Paulo finally raised his head in surprise and saw that Alvaro was sitting next to him, holding his bandaged hand.

He should have known, damn it. Only Alvaro had those soft fingers and only Alvaro would treat Paulo’s hand like that, like how he treated the rest of Paulo’s body, as if Paulo were a rock of the most precious jewel. Always gentle, always careful.

“Fuck off,” Paulo snapped, only it came out as more of a disbelieving, breathless whisper because he felt like he was either going to faint or throw up. Or both. He pulled his hand out of Alvaro’s.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said. He looked hurt and torn and so miserable and Paulo couldn't bear to look at him. “It was a dumb dare. I’m sorry. I fucked up and I'm sorry.”

He reached over and attempted to take Paulo’s hand again, but Paulo shrank away from him and slid off the brick and onto the hard ground with a thud. Alvaro sat there dejectedly, like he just wanted to hold Paulo, literally any part of Paulo. But Paulo was just so repulsed by him. He just _couldn’t_ let Alvaro touch him.

“Go back to her,” Paulo finally said, his voice still thick. “I don't give a fuck anymore.”

“Pau,” Alvaro said, sounding impossibly more hurt than before. “Mario took her home. I wanted to tell you about this, about this dare and the girl they found, but that night at Carpi you were so tired and you didn't want to listen to me. I was going to tell you, Paulo, even if I didn’t manage to at Carpi, I was going to tell you after today. I thought you'd understand. You always do.”

“Stop trying to fucking guilt trip me,” Paulo hissed.

“I’m not,” Alvaro whispered in dismay. He moved closer towards Paulo only to have Paulo shrink away once again. “Look, Paulo, it was nothing. Just the guys and one of their dumb plans. Because they don't know how I feel about you, okay? And they will never get it. But I made a deal with them and I couldn’t say no because then they’d find out about us and shit, Paulo, I just wanted to protect you. Please believe me. I just wanted to throw them off and I wanted to make her feel welcome here with me. And not just someone I asked out to this party because of a dare.”

“Isn't she everything you asked for?” Paulo snarled. He gritted his teeth. The jealousy was almost overbearing. “Aren't you happy with her?”

“I was,” Alvaro whispered, somewhat timidly. There was a long, long, painful silence before he spoke again. “Paulo, she fits everything in my list. She’s everything I want in a girl. But she's missing one thing, the only thing that matters. She isn't you.”

“Fuck you,” Paulo spat. He leaned his cheek on his crossed arms again, facing away from Alvaro. “You're a liar. I saw the look on your face when you were with her.”

“Don't you think it's nice? To get a chance to forget everything that's happening?”

“Was she at your place when I called? Is that why you didn't call me back, because you spent the entire night with her?”

“No, Paulo, please,” Alvaro said. He reached over with his hand but the moment he touched Paulo, Paulo felt like he’d burst into flames and he had to move his hand away, much to Alvaro’s despair. “I’d only spoken to her once then. I was with my cousins. Really, I swear.”

“I broke up with Ana,” Paulo said to the ground. “She hates the fuck out of me now. She knows everything. I had a clean slate, I was supposed to have a clean slate. So I could be with you. I was fucking ready, Alvaro, I was ready to face everything. I gave Ana up to be with you and this is what I get? Fuck you, Alvaro. Fuck you.”

Alvaro went completely silent. There was no smart witty response or any sort of stupid wise comment coming out from Alvaro’s mouth. He just sat there, his breaths so silent compared to Paulo’s angry wheezing.

“The past week has been hell,” Paulo continued when there hadn't been a response for like, eons. He turned back to face Alvaro. “And where the fuck have you been? Gallivanting around with some girl you just met but already know is everything you've ever wanted. You didn't even give a fuck when I walked in, just paraded around with her like some sort of trophy. Fuck, Alvaro. I'm not saying I'm entitled to your attention. But I have literally torn my life down to its core for you. I've lost everything. Everything I have, everything I believe in. Everything has changed and I feel like I deserve so much more than this. I love you, Alvaro, I fucking love you, even if it hurts.”

Alvaro gasped a little when he heard that last part, his gaze shooting up to meet Paulo’s, garnet to emerald. He had never heard Paulo say those words to him and Paulo wished the first time didn’t have to be in these circumstances but he just had to say them. He'd kept it in for too long and if he did so for any longer he was going to explode. But Alvaro was just sitting there staring at him, and he felt hot and bothered and _fuck_ , he fucking  _loved Alvaro_. And he was crying again and God, it was the most embarrassing thing.

It didn’t help that he was caught unawares when Alvaro slid over to him, cupped his cheek in his gentle hand, and leaned over to kiss him.

Paulo’s lips were unresponsive at first, like he was really intensely debating if he should follow his gut or his anger. But the former seemed to take over after a few seconds because _man_ , this boy sure knew how to kiss. Paulo found his hands wandering up the front of Alvaro’s shirt and resting on his stubbly cheeks. His favourite stubbly cheeks. It was a relief, really, kissing Alvaro again, finally kissing Alvaro without it feeling forbidden, without any inhibitions, without questioning his own sanity and without the thought of betraying Ana in his mind.

But there was something else stopping Paulo; something else that wasn't his thoughts or his guilt or anything to do with himself. Alvaro looked surprised when Paulo suddenly pushed him away, like he'd been really into it and was a little annoyed that Paulo had to be like _that_.

“You can't just come and kiss me five minutes after kissing her,” Paulo said, wiping his lips with the back of his uninjured hand.

“I didn’t kiss her,” Alvaro said, sitting there dejectedly again. “I swear I didn’t. I haven’t kissed anyone since…since I realised I was in love with you. I _am_ in love with you. I love you, Paulo. It’s not even in the bro way, or whatever. I _love you._ ”

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. He was suddenly dizzy because of all the blood he lost and all the alcohol he’d drowned himself in, and whatever. He was dizzy because of _Alvaro_. “This is all too much,” he whispered. “It’s too much.”

“Come on,” Alvaro used his palms to wipe Paulo’s face dry; and fuck, Paulo almost melted in his grasp, even though he told himself he had to get his shit together and stop falling head over heels all over again every time Alvaro touched him. Alvaro went over to Paulo’s other side and very self-invitingly took Paulo’s unbandaged hand, sliding his fingers between Paulo’s. “I’ll take you home.”

Paulo stood up when Alvaro pulled him, but reclaimed his hand immediately after, stuffing it in his pocket. Then he started walking as Alvaro stood where he was for a couple of seconds, his hand hovering in the air.

“We’re not going to fucking hold hands and walk down the street,” Paulo muttered when Alvaro had caught up with him.

Alvaro smiled sadly, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah,” he whispered.

They walked in complete silence all the way to their homes, because Paulo was shit drunk and couldn’t drive, and Alvaro decided he was going to follow him around again like he used to do.

When they reached Paulo’s place Paulo realised his anger hadn't subsided. He had no idea why, just that all the motivation he’d had earlier to go out and get Alvaro was suddenly missing. He was tired again, just tired of everything and he really just needed a break. To sleep for three days straight, or whatever. To get away from Alvaro because shit, even though he loved that guy with all his heart, it was once again the wrong place at the wrong time, like phasing from one nightmare to the next.

So when he stepped into his foyer and turned around and saw Alvaro just standing at the foot of the front steps, he said nothing. Didn't invite him in. Didn't kiss him good night. Didn't do all those things even though they were both single as fuck and could do whatever they’d been thinking of doing to each other for three months. Didn't do all those things even though Paulo wanted to; _God_ , Paulo had never wanted anything more than to hold Alvaro right then and let himself melt into him.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Instead he shut the door gently on Alvaro and sat down on the ground with his back to it, thinking of how the last part of Alvaro he saw before the door closed was his eyes. His hurt, guilty, torn, desperate, _beautiful_ brown eyes.


	10. Sweet Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for this chapter is Fire And The Flood by Vance Joy.

Alvaro sat outside Paulo’s door instead of leaving.

The light in Paulo’s room never turned on, and neither did any other light in Paulo’s house, so Alvaro thought that Paulo had probably either gone straight to sleep or he was sitting behind the door, right behind where Alvaro was sitting, on the front steps.

He didn’t know if he would rather be inside. Seeing how Paulo looked at the party practically tore Alvaro into pieces, although he tried hard to hide it for Paulo’s sake. For the sake of not having more of his teammates – or worse, his date – know about him and Paulo. To protect Paulo.

Alvaro sighed and rested his chin on his knees. _He loved Paulo_. It was both the most painful and the most liberating thing to say. He didn’t know what would eventually come out of his relationship with Paulo. If there would even _be_ a relationship. He knew Paulo hesitated to pursue one not only because he had Ana, but because it was practically forbidden when they were living such public lives in the sporting world.

But oh, he really wanted Paulo. He wanted Paulo more than anything he’d ever wanted. It didn’t matter the consequences. He knew it was foolish, it was stupid and selfish but he also knew for a fact that _both_ he and Paulo wanted it.

He could understand why Paulo was angry, really. He was used to feeling that way, seeing Paulo with Ana. He felt so stupid, so guilty to even have had the guts to tell Paulo he was just taking a break, a chance to forget everything for just one night, when Paulo never once had that choice. Paulo had always been trapped in the middle with no way out but never once did he ask for a break from Alvaro or a break from reality. Never once did he go out and find another girl just so he could try to forget Alvaro and Ana and all the pain he was going through because of them. Paulo was so strong and yet Alvaro lacked even the slightest decency to try and talk to him and fight this battle together.

But a small stubborn part of him was furious at Paulo. Paulo hadn’t even bothered to speak to him since he called when Alvaro’s cousins were over. He practically refused to talk to Alvaro that night in Carpi. If Paulo had told Alvaro about Ana, or fuck, even just told him _anything_ about what he was going through _,_ Alvaro would literally have dropped everything and gone running straight into his arms. How could he expect that Alvaro be the one to come to him all the time? How could he have expected Alvaro to know about him and Ana? It was like he no longer cared but expected Alvaro to.

Alvaro sighed again. He’d been wrong, too, suddenly appearing at that party with a gorgeous girl and expecting Paulo not to be mad. The entire thing was just one big mess and Alvaro wanted so much for this to be just a dream. He closed his eyes and wished that when he opened them again, this entire thing, all of it, would have never happened. That he would wake up in bed in July, when Paulo and he would just be the best of friends and play FIFA every day, and he would have seen all of this coming and known how to avoid it.

He really did fall asleep, but when he opened his eyes nothing had changed except that it was raining.

“Fuck,” Alvaro muttered, trapping his arms under his knees. It was probably like, midnight, and it was really chilly. But Alvaro didn’t want to leave. Just being so close to Paulo, even though it meant camping outside his door, made Alvaro comfortable in a way that neutralized the rain.

He slid his face between his knees, warming his cheeks, and closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the fat raindrops pelting him all over the place and his teeth slowly starting to chatter.

Five minutes later Paulo’s front door opened, and Alvaro turned around to see a throughly worn-out, battered Paulo, like he’d been in an intense battle with all his thoughts for the last few hours. His dark grey shirt was half-untucked, his top button undone and cuffs rolled up, and his usually impeccable hair seemed to have been hastily shoved back on his head multiple times.

But he stood half behind his door, like he was silently inviting Alvaro inside rather than confronting him about sitting on his stoop like a stalker.

Alvaro stood up and, when Paulo didn't stop him, stepped over the threshold and stood dripping off on Paulo’s welcome mat as he closed the door. Then Paulo disappeared for a couple of seconds and returned with a soft towel.

“You're fucking dumb,” he said as he handed Alvaro the towel to dry off, but even as he said that he had the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, like he was touched that Alvaro waited or like he found Alvaro so sheepishly adorable.

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. His hand lingered briefly on Paulo’s as he took the towel, and Paulo seemed to be in no haste to remove it.

And much to Alvaro’s surprise, when he was done wiping all the parts of him that were dripping, Paulo glided over and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face into Alvaro’s chest, like he wanted to keep Alvaro warm.

After some hesitation Alvaro wrapped his arms around Paulo, one hand on his shoulder and the other pressing his head more tightly into his chest, and turned his face into Paulo’s hair. His scent was comforting and warm as it invaded Alvaro’s nostrils. It smelled like home.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro whispered, and as he did he felt Paulo’s arms tighten slightly around him. “I really am.”

Paulo didn't reply. He just stood there with his face hidden in the front of Alvaro’s jacket like it was his way of saying he forgave Alvaro, no matter if he’d apologized or not.

A minute later he pulled himself out of Alvaro’s arms and started walking towards the living room. “Go take a shower, or whatever,” he said without looking at Alvaro.

So Alvaro did, moving around Paulo’s house like it was his own, falling right back into old habits. He was slightly surprised when he saw the clothes he’d left over from previous visits still sitting there, folded nicely in the guestroom drawer. But he grabbed some anyway, and showered and changed out of his uncomfortable wet clothes.

When he got back to the living room Paulo was lying on the couch, legs curled up close to himself, leaving a reasonable space for Alvaro. Alvaro sat down in it and placed his palm gently on Paulo’s ankle, because he felt like if he didn’t have his skin touching Paulo’s for any longer he would spontaneously combust. It had never been weird when Alvaro touched Paulo before; he thought he was right to believe that it would still be the same.

Alas, Paulo pulled his feet away from Alvaro’s grasp. But instead of completely ignoring Alvaro, he sat up and slid towards him, pressing his thigh against Alvaro’s just like old times, the both of them warming each other from shoulder to ankle. It was an indescribable warmth, even after all this time. _Especially_ after all this time.

Paulo leaned his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder, his eyes closed and the smallest, shyest, but most satisfied smile on his face. Alvaro moved to wrap an arm around his neck, squeezing him closer. He’d really missed this feeling, being so close to Paulo that he practically felt like they were one and the same.

“Does this mean we’re okay now?” Alvaro whispered into Paulo’s hair.

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo replied, but the tiny smile had turned into a big grin, and Alvaro closed his eyes and fell asleep together with Paulo knowing that it was a yes, knowing that they were okay, and knowing he had his best friend in the entire world back by his side once again.

\------

Paulo felt like a creep waking up the middle of the night to stare at Alvaro. He really did. But he couldn’t stop, anyway.

Alvaro looked so childlike when he was asleep. Paulo had removed himself from under Alvaro’s arm, but Alvaro’s hand had wandered to Paulo’s thigh, like he was seeking out Paulo even when he was asleep. Paulo sat so close to him he felt his body moving along with Alvaro’s breaths, his head turned in an awkward position to gaze at him. But it didn’t matter because he finally had Alvaro to himself and he could finally tell Alvaro he loved him, and he was never going to let Alvaro out of his sight again.

It was hard for Paulo to admit to himself that he actually needed some time. To recover from Ana. To prepare for another relationship – and not just _any_ relationship, but a relationship with _Alvaro_. A relationship that would be scrutinized relentlessly by the public eye once it got out. If it ever got out. A relationship that Paulo had never wanted anything more than, but a relationship that required more than Paulo had ever given.

But above all, it was hard to admit because Alvaro was _right there_ , and Paulo _loved him_ and in that moment, nothing mattered more. Not all the pain he was still in, not all the time he thought he had to give himself. Because this couldn’t wait. His love for Alvaro couldn’t wait.

And Paulo knew that no matter what Alvaro did, he'd always go crawling back to him. He would always forgive Alvaro. Because Alvaro was like a drug, like a drug Paulo could not stop taking no matter how much it hurt him. He was just so _fucking weak_ for Alvaro and that was one part of his life he knew was never going to change. That he was _glad_ was never going to change. Because Alvaro was his constant, his pillar of strength, his piece of land in the open sea. And no matter how much thinking Paulo did, he knew nothing would ever change his mind.

When Alvaro finally woke up from his extremely uncomfortable position and started stretching his neck, he cracked an eye open and gave a little huff when he saw Paulo just staring at him.

“Creep,” he muttered, and then turned the other way, leaned his head on the back of the couch, and _fell back asleep,_ that pig.

“Hey,” Paulo said softly. He gently poked Alvaro on the shoulder. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Alvaro jerked awake a little – oh, he was so adorable – and turned around. “About what?” he asked.

“About…” Paulo made a gesture between them. “About us. I want it. I want to do this.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said hesitantly, his eyes desperately trying to read Paulo’s. “I do, too. And I won’t change my mind. I hope you won’t, either, because fuck, Paulo, if you do, I don’t think I can take it.”

“I won’t,” Paulo whispered; he knew it was true, because if _Alvaro_ were to change his mind, Paulo didn’t think he would be able to take it, either.

And then to make his point extremely clear, he slid over closer to Alvaro again, crawled over his stupid lanky long legs, and pressed his lips gently on Alvaro’s.

“I love you,” Paulo whispered against Alvaro’s lips.

Alvaro relaxed into the kiss immediately. His hands slid their way under Paulo’s arms and moved to grab the back of Paulo’s neck, holding him firmly where he was. “I love you, too,” he whispered back, and Paulo literally felt every single doubt in his mind completely melt away.

He dragged himself on to Alvaro’s lap, straddling him, pressing his abdomen against Alvaro’s and feeling Alvaro’s hands move _all over_ his body, up and down the side of his ribs, making Paulo pine for so much more, pine for the feeling of Alvaro’s bare hands on his bare skin.

One of Alvaro’s strong arms snaked around Paulo’s waist, holding him securely as he turned and put Paulo down on the couch, himself settling in between Paulo’s legs. As he moved to place his lips on Paulo’s neck Paulo felt him suddenly jerk violently like he’d been about to fall off the couch. He burst into laughter as Alvaro muttered a soft ‘fuck’; it was evident from the start that the couch wouldn’t work for the both of them.

“Room?” he murmured the suggestion.

“Fuck,” Alvaro said again, and he stood up and _fucking lifted Paulo up and hoisted him over his shoulder_ , leaving Paulo’s head dangling over his back as he gasped in surprise. “Fuck! Fuck this.”

And Paulo burst into laughter again, although it probably was more like a gargling sound given he was hanging upside down. Alvaro flung him down on the bed in the guestroom – Paulo liked to think that he tried to be gentle but _couldn’t_ , given how _desperately horny_ he was – and crawled on top of him again. He smiled when he was face to face with Paulo, and Paulo felt his face turn pinker than it already was from all the upside down blood rush.

“I fucking love you, man,” Alvaro said affectionately, and the fucking _look_ on his face, gentle and endearing, almost made Paulo melt into a little puddle on the bed. And it also almost made him burst into laughter again, simply because he was so _happy_ , so happy to have Alvaro hovering over him again and to think of all the things they were going to do that night and forever.

So the end of the party really _was_ going to turn out the way Paulo had anticipated.

Paulo pushed Alvaro off him and on to his back, clamoring over to the other side of the bed so he was sitting on Alvaro’s abdomen. “Cheesy fuck,” he mouthed at Alvaro.

And Alvaro grabbed the back of Paulo’s head and pulled him downwards, smashing both their lips together, the both of them finding peace and liberation in the increasing rhythm, in all the noise in their heads and between their bodies. Paulo found Alvaro's hands wandering down the front of his shirt, counting the buttons before deciding to undo them. After successfully wriggling out of his party shirt, he slid his hands under Alvaro's black t-shirt – the black t-shirt that was a permanent resident in the dresser and which Paulo sometimes slept with when he missed Alvaro – and pulled it off, smiling when Alvaro arched his back off the bed to get more of Paulo's touch.

Paulo gently slid his way down Alvaro’s body, feeling him wince in pleasure when it caused some friction between them. He planted his lips first between Alvaro’s collarbones, then on his sternum, before pleasuring each of his nipples in turn, causing him to release a loud moan that Paulo wasn't sure was of pain or pleasure, just that _he liked the sound of it._

Alvaro gave another loud whine when Paulo continued moving downwards, away from his nipples; and Paulo wasn't sure if it was a whine of relief or a whine of displeasure. But oh, the state Alvaro was in by the time Paulo pulled down his pants – he was gasping for breath and writhing around, and Paulo was almost dizzy at the sight. He slid Alvaro’s underwear off over his hardness, almost getting slapped in the face as his dick sprung up.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered, his fists unclenching from the sheets on either side of him and moving to clench in Paulo’s hair instead. When Paulo gently blew on the tip of his dick, he flinched and gasped again. “Shit, Paulo. Paulo.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. He was so high, so high on Alvaro.

“You…” with all the strength he could muster, Alvaro propped himself up on his elbows. “You want to do this? You're sure?”

When Paulo met Alvaro's gaze he saw it was full of lust, full of want, full of such _fierce desire_ but despite that, of such pure love and concern that Paulo was momentarily stunned. And despite having like, researched (and by researched, he meant watching videos and chewing so hard on his lip it bled because he started imagining that it was him and Alvaro in those videos) on how to do a blowjob in anticipation of a day like this one, Paulo hadn't been sure of actually doing it.

But that look on Alvaro’s face rendered every other thought completely redundant, save for the thought of his dick in Paulo’s mouth.

So in response to Alvaro's question he dipped his head, not to nod but to gently run his tongue up Alvaro’s dick, on the underside from the balls to the tip, finishing with a little swirl of his tongue.

“Fuck,” Alvaro swore as Paulo sat up for a moment to remove Alvaro’s pants. He wriggled around impatiently as Paulo settled on all fours again and grabbed Alvaro’s dick in his hand. “God, fuck, Pau.”

Paulo closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and lowered his lips over Alvaro’s dick, holding Alvaro down with his injured palm on Alvaro’s hip as he shuddered because fuck, he didn't want to gag, or whatever.

He sheathed his teeth with his lips as he slowly moved down Alvaro’s length until his lips were touching Alvaro’s balls, and then slowly rose back up again, sucking gently and twirling his tongue inside his mouth, around Alvaro’s width. Wrapping one hand back around Alvaro's now-moist member, he stroked Alvaro with it as he continued teasing his tip with his mouth, kissing and licking and twirling, feeling and tasting the precome that was now dribbling off the side and into Paulo's mouth.

“Is this okay?” Paulo asked tenderly, even though he very evidently didn't need to.

“Fuck you,” Alvaro jerked upwards a little, nudging himself against Paulo’s lips. “Fuck, do you need to ask? Isn't it obvious?”

And Paulo’s lips were upturned as he lowered them again, this time more confidently, allowing Alvaro to fuck gently into his mouth. But Alvaro didn't last long with the ‘gently’ part, as his hips slowly started to lift off the bed, pushing himself deeper into Paulo’s mouth as he thrusted on his own.

Paulo was glad he didn't have like, a weak gag reflex or whatever, because when he gently rolled a finger over the base of Alvaro’s dick and his balls, Alvaro started to violently thrust upwards, almost quicker than Paulo was ready to take, gradually hitting the back of Paulo’s throat.

“Fuck, fuck you, Paulo,” Alvaro hissed, spurring Paulo on with every curse he muttered. Paulo put his hand around Alvaro’s dick again, and although it was a little difficult with his left hand, stroked him up and down to the rhythm of his thrusts and the movement of Paulo’s mouth. And fuck, had Paulo's other hand not been injured, he'd have been pleasuring himself to the look on Alvaro’s face. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your dirty mouth and your…fuck, dirty hands.”

And Paulo’s dirty mouth only needed to give a little squeeze around Alvaro, giving one last, hard suck, for Alvaro to unravel again. Paulo barely managed to get his face out of the way before Alvaro’s come spurted everywhere, some of it landing on Paulo’s left cheek and his chin, and the rest on Alvaro’s abdomen. Alvaro himself had his back arched off the bed, his mouth open in a gasp and a silent scream, his hand finding Paulo’s bandaged one and fucking grabbing on to it like it was his lifeline. Paulo lay there with his free hand stroking Alvaro and guiding his orgasm, his clean cheek on Alvaro’s left thigh, admiring the view, appreciating the fact that he made Alvaro as weak as Alvaro made him. That he could satisfy Alvaro the same way Alvaro satisfied him.

Alvaro finally descended again with a shudder, his breaths carrying his chest violently up and down. Paulo smiled when Alvaro’s eyes opened again, hazily searching the room until they found Paulo.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered as Paulo crawled up gratefully into his arms. He grabbed his shirt from beside him and wiped the come off Paulo's face. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

But oh, Paulo was honestly too turned on to care. All the sensations that Alvaro had just experienced – Paulo wanted to feel them, too. He pressed his lips eagerly on Alvaro’s, pushing his tongue in between Alvaro’s lips; his own lips were so sore they were practically numb, but the feeling and the _taste_ of Alvaro on them brought them back alive.

“My turn,” he whispered, feeling his voice turning hoarse from Alvaro’s rough treatment. He ran his lips and his tongue along Alvaro’s jawline, his hands expertly maneuvering to remove his own pants without him leaving Alvaro. “Fuck my brains out, Alvaro.”

Alvaro sucked in a loud, ragged breath as he grabbed Paulo’s now naked bum with one hand and a handful of Paulo’s hair with the other and pushed and tugged until Paulo was in the position he wanted, sitting high up on Alvaro’s abdomen and leaning over the headboard. Paulo was hard as _fuck_ and his dick was resting on Alvaro’s chest, smeared with all of Alvaro’s come, just barely inches away from his mouth – like, he could practically just look downwards and he’d have a mouthful of Paulo’s dick – but Alvaro looked so _nervous_ and Paulo couldn’t just continue, even though his body wanted to.

“Hey,” he said softly, holding Alvaro’s face in his hands and tilting it up towards him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I mean…like, with your mouth.”

Alvaro’s gaze was anxious but it softened when it met Paulo’s. “I’ve never done it before,” he confessed timidly.

“Neither have _I_ , fuck, what do you think?” Paulo laughed.

“Are you serious?!”

“I just, you know, like, watched videos and stuff,” Paulo said hastily. “Fuck, can we talk about this later? You’re spoiling the mood.”

And Alvaro gave his stupid sunshiny smile, and Paulo could literally feel his blood boiling, but not in the furious way. In the way that made every nerve in his body tingle. In the way that made him want every fiber of Alvaro, down to his very core, just like he was willing to give Alvaro all of himself.

Alvaro slid down further and gently took Paulo’s dick in his hand, stroking him up and down like he was trying to get a feel of how it’d be in his mouth. And Paulo wanted to tell him again that it was okay, it really was, if Alvaro couldn’t do it – shit, Paulo was so desperate he could literally just rub along Alvaro’s chest and come in like, five seconds.

But before he could say anything, Alvaro took another deep breath and slowly inched his lips over Paulo’s dick – and oh, Paulo felt like he was being sucked into Alvaro, absorbed into him, his mind and body and soul combining seamlessly with Alvaro’s. He gave a little soft, but embarrassing nonetheless, moan as Alvaro pressed on the small of his back, pulling him in closer, starting a new rhythm.

Paulo rested his weight on his knees and lifted himself off Alvaro’s chest, making it easier for Alvaro to control his speed. It was slow at first, with Alvaro getting the feel of it and trying his best not to bite Paulo, or whatever; but it soon built up to a pleasant speed, with Paulo now thrusting gently into Alvaro’s mouth and Alvaro’s hand cupping the base of Paulo’s member.

And _God_ , even though the last thing Paulo wanted to do was hurt Alvaro, he couldn’t help but start fucking into his mouth, bit by bit, harder and harder, spurred on by the feeling of Alvaro’s hands imprinting on his bum with how hard he was grabbing – and occasionally slapping, like Paulo was some sort of horse – it. Spurred on by how _fucking confident_ Alvaro had become even though it’d been just minutes since he first took Paulo’s dick in his mouth.

But it was really too soon to say, because as Paulo felt himself hitting the back of Alvaro’s throat he saw and felt Alvaro gag and practically spit Paulo’s dick out of his mouth.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered, tenderly taking Alvaro’s face in his hands and attempting to soothe him as he started coughing. “I’m sorry.”

But Alvaro only shook his head and took a deep breath of fresh air. And he didn’t forget to continue pleasuring Paulo – his tongue further wet Paulo’s dick as it ran along the side of it, around the bottom, then back up the other side, his quick incoherent breaths blowing gusts of air over Paulo’s balls and making him flinch in pleasure.

When he’d calmed down enough he swallowed his discomfort and met Paulo’s eyes with his intense brown gaze. “Come on,” he whispered hoarsely, _sexily_. He grabbed Paulo’s bum with one of his hands and Paulo’s dick with the other, and then his lips engulfed Paulo’s dick again, and shit, Paulo was _so close_. He was so close and looking at the expression on Alvaro’s face, so desperate to please, almost tipped him over the edge.

It started slow again but soon Alvaro was comfortable enough to push Paulo all the way, balls-deep into his mouth, his hand stroking a new rhythm and his tongue working _fucking_ _magic._ All it took was a few more thrusts into Alvaro’s inviting mouth, and then Paulo started to feel it, that burst of sensation deep down inside his gut, and he frantically grabbed his own dick and pulled it out of Alvaro’s mouth, cursing when he saw that line of precome-saliva mixture joining the tip to the side of Alvaro’s mouth. Alvaro knew what he meant immediately; he gladly took Paulo’s dripping wet hardness in his hand again and started to violently stroke him, conjuring his orgasm, forcing it out of Paulo.

And oh, it was a spectacular one. It was so _liberating_. Paulo found himself draped over the headboard, his cheek pressed against the wall behind the bed, his body convulsing like he’d just been electrocuted by none other than the man lying beneath him. It was the _best_ kind of electricity. The kind that could kill Paulo but even if it did, Paulo couldn’t give less of a shit.

When he sat upright again he saw Alvaro licking the tip of his dick like it was a fucking popsicle, or whatever. There was come all over his stupid pretty face and shit, Paulo _loved_ that guy and he had never felt it more than he did in that very moment.

He picked up the black t-shirt already stained with Alvaro’s come, and used it to wipe Alvaro’s face. “Shit, I’m sorry, Alvi.”

“Come down here and kiss me,” was his reply.

So Paulo slid down Alvaro’s body again until he could press his lips against Alvaro’s. “I can taste myself,” he murmured.

Alvaro giggled. He _giggled._ “I can taste myself, too.”

“Everything tastes fucking gross.”

“Hey, I like it. Rude.”

Paulo smiled, he smiled against Alvaro’s lips and felt him smile right back. “I love you, Alvaro.”

“I love you too, Pau,” Alvaro gave Paulo’s cheek a little nibble, and then lay back down and spread his arms wide, allowing Paulo to roll over and use one as his extra pillow. “Fuck, that was the best.”

“Yeah?” Paulo grinned, somewhat proud of himself. “For me, too.”

Then there was silence, and Paulo rolled over to his side and wrapped an arm around Alvaro, his hand slowly stroking the side of Alvaro’s ribs. He loved that feeling. For all he cared, Alvaro’s ribs could cut him open and he would gladly let them.

And then just as Paulo was about to drift into a peaceful post-coital sleep, Alvaro suddenly nudged him awake again. “Pau,” he whispered. “About those videos…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo said, his face turning as pink as those Juventus jerseys. He turned to the other side and purposefully nudged Alvaro with his butt.

Alvaro started laughing, and pushed Paulo around until he managed to get the sheets over the both of them. Then he wrapped his arms around Paulo and tucked his head into the back of Paulo’s neck – God, Paulo loved that feeling, that feeling of being in Alvaro’s warmth, of letting Alvaro seep through his every crack, of allowing Alvaro to heal him, piece by piece. That feeling of finally being able to call Alvaro his.

That night, Paulo slept a soothing, dreamless sleep; the most peaceful sleep he’d had since way back, when he realised he was in love with Alvaro and could never have him. Because now he _did_ have Alvaro, and it was like a dream come true.

\------

When Alvaro woke again it was just dawn and the sky was a gorgeous mix of navy blue and dark orange, but he found himself unable to keep his eyes off Paulo.

Paulo had turned back around while he was asleep, and was gently clinging on to the tips of Alvaro’s fingers with both his hands, like a little child. Alvaro gently stroked Paulo's cheek with his other hand, smiling when Paulo gave a soft murmur and pushed his face further into Alvaro's hand.

“Are you staring at me?” he mumbled. He gave a little sigh and turned his head into the pillow. “Creep.”

“I'm scared that you'll be gone when I wake up,” Alvaro whispered, that very truth suddenly hitting him; he wasn't used to this, to having Paulo all to himself and not having to worry about him leaving or avoiding Alvaro.

Paulo opened his tired green eyes and blinked at Alvaro. “Alvi, this is _my house_. Where would I go?” he asked sleepily. Then his eyes shot completely open and an utterly horrified stare took over them. “Alvaro, you're not going to –“

“I’m not,” Alvaro quickly assured him, guilty that he’d ever planted that thought in Paulo’s mind. “I'm not leaving. I promise.”

Paulo shimmied over the little gap that was between them and crashed straight into Alvaro's chest, pressing his cheek into Alvaro’s collarbone.

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered. He felt Paulo smile against his bare skin.

“You know…” Paulo started. “It’s going to be…different. We can’t do anything in public. Not kissing or hugging or, fuck, not even holding hands. It’s always going to be just us, the both of us, in private. And I already know that I’m not going to be able to take it sometimes, I’m going to have to fucking fight the urge to touch you but…Alvaro. I also know that we can do this together, that if I crash into this head-first, the only way I’ll ever get out in one piece is if you’re with me. So, just…I just want you to know that I’m willing to do this. To forever love you in private and forever fight whatever that is going to be said about us. I’m never going to give up because shit, Alvaro. You know how much I've been through just to get this started. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure it goes on. I have never felt this way about anyone, Alvi, and I don't think I ever will again. It'll take some time for this to settle, for everything to feel normal, but I'm willing to do this. Everything and anything, for you.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. He hugged Paulo even closer to him. “Me, too. Anything I have to do, I will. I've been waiting for you all this while and it's worth it, I swear, it's so worth it. The private thing…we’ll work with it. I promise. Maybe it’ll even be better, you know? This love belongs to us. _Only us._ I can't think…of a better way to love you. Shit, Paulo. You're gonna make me cry.”

Paulo gave the most adorable little chuckle. “You're too old to be a crybaby.”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro muttered as Paulo started laughing out loud. He couldn’t believe this gag had been running since the beginning of their friendship; but hey, if it meant that their friendship would always go on, then forget it. Alvaro was completely fine with it. “Paulo. I’m sorry. About yesterday and about not calling you. And I’m sorry about Ana.”

Paulo lifted his head and set his gaze on Alvaro’s face, slowly scanning every inch of it before he smiled. “I’m sorry, too. For everything you had to go through because of me. And for like, telling you to fuck off multiple times. Because the only place I want you to fuck off to is here. This bed.”

Alvaro smiled, and in turn Paulo’s smile grew wider. “This is fucking ridiculous,” Alvaro noted, and when Paulo gave him a curious look, continued, “This. Us apologizing to each other. I mean, we’re like, best friends. You know. Apologizing isn’t our thing.”

“We’re not _just_ best friends anymore,” Paulo whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are we?”

Alvaro faked a gasp. “Paulo Bruno Dybala, are you asking me to be your _boyfriend_?”

“Pfft, it’s fine if you don’t wanna,” Paulo said, playfully turning the other way and ignoring Alvaro again. But there was the _biggest_ goofy grin on his face and he looked so _happy_ that Alvaro just had to reach over and drape himself over him, his right cheek resting on Paulo’s left.

“You know I wanna be your boyfriend, stupid.”

A light pink blush slowly took over Paulo’s cheeks, warming Alvaro’s as well. “Cheesy fuck,” Paulo whispered. He turned his head and kissed Alvaro softly on the cheek, and then on his lips. Then he turned completely around again so he was face to face with Alvaro, sighing happily as he just lay there, smiling stupidly at Alvaro and just staring at his face like it was some kind of art piece.

Suddenly, Paulo raised his hands and ran his thumbs over Alvaro’s eyebrows.

“I love your eyebrows,” he whispered.

“What the fuck, Paulo,” Alvaro burst into laughter. “What a thing to say.”

“I really do. I don’t know. I like them. I’ve always wanted to touch this scar thing. But it’s weird, you know, just coming up to you and poking your eyebrow.”

“You’re fucking weird, Pau,” Alvaro informed Paulo, leaning in for another lingering kiss nonetheless.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” Paulo said once his smile had subsided. “That this is real. Because fuck, Alvaro, if I wake up later and find that all of this was just the nicest dream I’ve ever had, I’m not going to be able to take it.”

“Close your eyes,” Alvaro murmured into his ear, rubbing his beard all over Paulo’s cheek like he knew Paulo liked. “It’s all real. And later, tomorrow, it’ll be even realer. I’ll be here, I promise.”

“This is your bed, after all,” Paulo finished the thought in Alvaro’s mind, and as a reward Alvaro kissed the little bulge Paulo’s cheek made when he smiled.

Then they spent the whole morning in bed, arms and legs tangled in the sheets and in each other, alternating between drifting off to shallow sleep and lazily making out and jerking each other off, only soft murmurs, little satisfied moans, and gentle laughter disturbing the sex-scented crisp morning air. Paulo’s bandage had practically turned into shreds by the time they both drifted off to sleep for good.

But it didn’t matter, because Alvaro was holding his hand – and Alvaro’s hand was the best kind of protection there was.


	11. I Will Be By Your Side

Paulo didn’t go back home to Argentina for Christmas.

Alvaro went back to Spain; it was just a couple of hours between via plane, anyway. He stayed for five days and then flew back to Turin.

And he found a much quieter, dejected, troubled, thoroughly upset Paulo.

“Alright, you gotta tell me what’s wrong,” he said as he followed Paulo into his room and watched him sit down on the bed, slouched over sadly. They’d spent the entire journey back from the airport completely silent, but Paulo had been driving so Alvaro let him go. Now they were home and Paulo was still being the same way and Alvaro felt like he had to intervene. He sat down beside Paulo when he didn’t reply. “Paulo. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it your family?”

Paulo shook his head.

“Paulo, don’t do this to me again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paulo retorted, but fuck, that was _exactly the point_. 

Alvaro sighed, draped an arm over Paulo’s shoulders, and hugged him close. He hated seeing Paulo this way. The last time he saw him behave that way was –

He gently lifted Paulo’s chin. “Is it Ana?”

Paulo gave a huge sigh and pressed his face back into Alvaro’s shoulder. Then slowly, softly, he began speaking. “I didn’t go back this year because I couldn’t face my family. Ever since I moved to Italy, I always got by Christmas dinners because Ana was there and she’d do all the talking but this year she’s not here. And I don’t know how I’m going to answer all the questions, how I’m going to sit through dinner lying through my teeth. So I didn’t go.”

“I’m sure your family understands,” Alvaro whispered.

“It’s not that,” Paulo said. “It’s Ana. I texted her.”

“Oh,” Alvaro replied. He didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t feel jealous, or anything – okay, maybe he did, a little. But it wasn’t the time for jealousy. If he had the vaguest idea that Paulo was still hung up with his feelings for Ana then he would never have agreed to get into this relationship with Paulo. He could _feel_ how intensely Paulo felt towards him because he felt the same. And besides, he trusted Paulo with his life. So he knew this wasn’t because Paulo still loved Ana. It was something else. “What did you say?”

“I told her I’m sorry, and I wished her a Merry Christmas.”

“And what did she say?”

Paulo paused for a long time. “That’s the thing. Christmas was three days ago. She hasn’t replied.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Paulo mumbled. “I know I deserve this. I don’t know why I’m still expecting her to reply. I haven’t spoken to her since…that thing. But every day I think about it, I think about what I’ve done to her and I feel so horrible, Alvaro, I’m sorry. This isn’t about you and me. It’s about me and her. I didn’t handle this right and I’m sorry, Alvi.”

“No, no, hey,” Alvaro cupped Paulo’s cheek and lifted his face again. Paulo’s eyes were glistening with tears and fuck, Alvaro could feel his own heart falling to the ground. “I’m sorry. It was my fault, too.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Alvi. I love you.”

“Me, too.”

“I’m not hung up on her or whatever,” Paulo continued. “I swear I’m not.”

“I know,” Alvaro smiled. “I know. Look, why don’t I try calling her?”

“No, Alvi, she’s going to yell at you,” Paulo said, startled. “You know, if she even picks up the phone.”

“I don’t care,” Alvaro planted his lips on Paulo’s temple before standing up. “I had a part to play in this, too. How it ended, that was partly my fault. And I’m not just going to let you sit there and take all of it. Maybe she’ll pick up because she hasn’t yelled at me yet and she wants to.”

Paulo gave him a wry smile as he tried in vain to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks. He was such a _baby_ and Alvaro _loved the fuck out of him_. But it tore Alvaro apart to see him wallow in misery that way, to take all the guilt and regret by himself. He knew Paulo had really loved Ana, he saw it with his very own eyes, and he knew it was difficult to end a perfectly fine relationship in the way Paulo did. He knew Paulo still cared about Ana – fuck, even _Alvaro_ still cared about Ana. So even though it was hard, he knew he had to help Paulo shut the door on this chapter of his life. Shut the door on all the guilt he’d showered upon himself.

So he picked up his phone, mouthed a ‘love you’ at Paulo, and went into the living room to call Ana.

\------

When Alvaro returned to the room about half an hour later, Paulo’s head snapped up so hard he almost broke his neck.

Alvaro looked shaken but a little relieved as he passed the phone to Paulo. “Ana wants to speak to you,” he said softly.

Paulo took the phone hesitantly, but upon Alvaro’s encouraging nod, put it to his ear. “Ana?”

“Paulo,” she said calmly.

“How are you?”

A short pause later, Ana said, “I’ll be fine. I’m back in Palermo.”

“Ana, I’m sorry. I really am sorry for everything. I never meant for it to turn out this way. I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to hurt anybody. I’m sorry that I did all those things and that we had to end it this way. I loved you, Ana, I really did, and I still care a lot for you. I know this is hard to believe but I do. I understand that you’re mad pissed at me, I understand why and I’m truly, truly sorry. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, or anything. I just want you to know that I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change anything, Paulo,” she said softly, like she was about to cry. “Look, this whole thing…I’m trying to move on, okay? And evidently you already have. But I haven’t. It’s going to take a long time and I’m not going to be able to do it if you’re still here in my life.”

“So…” Paulo bit his lip to suppress a sob. “So this is it?”

“Alvaro told me he’s sorry, too,” she continued. “He’s a nice guy, Paulo. You two deserve each other.”

“Ana…”

“I mean it. Not in the spiteful way or whatever. I just…it was fucking obvious and I never saw it. That’s what bothers me the most. But that doesn’t change the fact that you fucking cheated on me, Paulo.”

“I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered. He closed his eyes. “I really, really am.”

“Look, it’s fine, whatever,” Ana said. “I appreciate you trying to get to me and apologizing. I really do. I’m glad that I was right to trust that you aren’t a heartless person. But I need to be away from you. Okay? I hope you understand. Maybe one day in the future we can be friends again. But not right now. I won’t block you or anything. I won’t tell anyone about you and Alvaro. But I just can’t talk to you about this right now.”

“I’m sorry, Ana.”

“Happy new year, Paulo,” Ana whispered. “I wish the best to you and Alvaro.”

And Paulo knew it took a whole lot for her to actually say those words; Ana was such an admirable girl and Paulo felt like crap.

“Happy new year, Ana,” Paulo whispered back. He opened his eyes again only to see Alvaro hovering hesitantly around him. After a long, tense pause, Ana hung up the phone.

Paulo buried his face into Alvaro’s shoulder as he sat down. “Fuck,” he sobbed. “Alvaro.”

“It’s okay,” Alvaro whispered.

“What did she say to you?”

“That she understands why I’d be in love with you. She knows you drifted apart over the three months. She kinda expected that you guys would have some problems, possibly big enough to break up. But she didn't expect you to cheat on her. So she isn’t so much angry at you as she’s hurt.”

“That doesn’t make anything better.”

“Look, Paulo. She was willing to talk to you. Isn’t that what you wanted? At least now you know where you two stand. And maybe it’ll take time for all of this to go away – maybe it’ll never go away. But at least now you know. And at least you’ll always know how Ana is doing. I’m sure you know that she needs to be far, far away from you now. But she was willing to at least tell you that. If she’s willing to talk to you then at least you know she’ll be fine. You just don’t know how long it’ll take her but that’s completely up to her and not up to us. Paulo, if she’s trying her best to put this behind her, then you should try to do the same.”

God, Alvaro was such a smartass and Paulo was so up for it.

“Okay,” Paulo whispered, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hands. “But I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Are you scared?” Paulo asked. “That I’ll cheat on you like I cheated on Ana?”

There was a long, painful silence, and Paulo thought, _oh, God, I should never have asked that._

But then Alvaro wrapped his arm around Paulo again and said, in the softest voice, “Paulo, I know you’re not a bad person. I know how it looks like. But I’m not scared because I trust you, Pau, this is just one way for it to happen and it doesn’t…define who you are or how you’re like in relationships. And what we have…you just know it’s nothing to worry about, okay? I just _know_. Shit, Paulo. I’m so helpless for you I don’t even care.”

Paulo giggled. “Fuck, Alvaro, you’re literally the best.”

“You know I am,” Alvaro teased, smiling. He was trying his best to make Paulo happy again and man, did Paulo appreciate that.

“Welcome home, by the way.”

“About time you said that,” Alvaro took Paulo’s hand and squeezed it gently. “FIFA?”

It was lame but that was exactly what would take Paulo’s mind off things – playing FIFA with his best friend. So he stood up and let Alvaro lead him to the couch and hand him the player two controller even though it was _Paulo’s house_.

Then they sat pressed up tightly in a small portion of the couch even though they had all the space in the world, warm from ankle to shoulder, whooping and cheering and teasing and doing some one-sided victory kissing whenever either of them scored a goal against the other.

And even though it was hard for Paulo, he knew this was the end of a chapter in his life and the start of a new one – the one with Alvaro. And as he looked over beside him and saw Alvaro thoroughly engrossed again in selecting a team he was confident would convincingly beat Paulo’s (he was almost never right), he realised once again he was fucking _in love_ with this stupid man, he’d fallen so deep and he wasn’t sure if the wobbly feelings he got in his belly whenever he looked at Alvaro would ever go away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted them to.

Paulo was the luckiest man on earth and for the first time, he let himself envision the future he had with his best friend – his _boyfriend_ – by his side. For the first time, he was more excited than he was guilty to open this new chapter of his life.

And for that he could thank nobody but Alvaro – the silly, childish, _charming as fuck_ Alvaro who always knew how to make Paulo smile, who always knew when Paulo wasn’t feeling too good about himself, and who was currently glancing smugly at Paulo as he put his team together. He could thank nobody but Alvaro, with whom he was so fucking disgustingly deeply in love with, so much that he made himself cringe sometimes.

Paulo had never felt more grateful to have Alvaro by his side than he did in that moment.

So he leaned over to Alvaro and lifted his butt off the couch so he could kiss Alvaro on the cheek, and when Alvaro smiled Paulo practically felt like he was flying. Then they spent the rest of the afternoon staring at their cartoon characters on the screen again, legs hooked together and barely any arm room between them, cozy and snug in each other’s body heat even in the chilly weather.

Because Paulo loved Alvaro and he was fucking proud of it, and he didn’t even mind that he couldn't tell it to anybody and he could only enjoy that feeling in private, because he knew he could share it with Alvaro – and sharing it with Alvaro was the only thing that would ever matter to Paulo.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro were being clingy as fuck to each other again, and for Alvaro to say he wasn’t enjoying it would be a lie. He was having the time of his life.

On New Year's Eve, Gigi’s family held a party and everyone on the team who were still in Turin were invited. Paulo and Alvaro went together, because Paulo still couldn't go back to Argentina and he wanted Alvaro to be with him even though he didn't mention it, that considerate baby. So Alvaro stayed as well.

No one seemed weirded out when they arrived at the party together. Claudio was there, and so were Leo and Giorgio, all of whom were with their significant others. Mario was back in Croatia, and as Paulo sat down next to Alvaro and handed him a drink he said, “It's weird not having Mario here as like, our buffer.”

Alvaro glanced warily at Paulo as he sipped from the glass. “You mean like, between the both of us?”

“No, fuck, between us and the rest of the people.”

Alvaro laughed. It did feel weird without Mario, even though Paulo had always been closer to Mario than he was. Mario was always looking out for them and protectively – and discreetly – warning them when they got too touchy with each other, even though Alvaro only realised that recently. “Chill, I was kidding. And yeah. But they're fine. We're fine.”

The duo spent most of the party sitting on the couch and basically just accepting any food that came their way, be it leftovers on the table from their teammates or Gigi trying to feed them. Soon, the group separated, the ladies moving to the next room to hang out with Gigi’s girlfriend and sons, leaving all the guys just draped over all the couches, half-drunk.

Alvaro had his arm on the back of the couch, around Paulo but not touching him. Paulo, however, had his palm on Alvaro’s thigh – it wasn’t an unusual thing, but Alvaro had checked and saw that no one was specifically looking at them, so he just let Paulo do it. Besides, he enjoyed it; both the warmth of Paulo touching him and the thrill of him doing it while they were in front of other people. Who gave a fuck about risks?

But that was only until Claudio, who was sloppily draped over the two sides of an armchair across from them, suddenly lazily raised two fingers in a ‘v’ and pointed them at Paulo and Alvaro. Then he made a circle with his left thumb and forefinger, and slid his right forefinger into the hole it made. Then he did it again, in and out, while maintaining eye contact with Alvaro.

A silent ‘you two are totally fucking’ sign.

Paulo saw it the same time as Alvaro did, and he immediately lifted his hand off Alvaro’s thigh and put it on his own. Alvaro almost sprained his shoulder while reclaiming his arm from behind Paulo. And then all four of the guys burst into laughter at the exact same moment.

“It’s fucking obvious, dude,” Leo remarked.

“What is?” Alvaro asked stubbornly.

Claudio did that stupid hand sign again.

“What the fuck,” Alvaro said. Seeing the smug looks on all their faces there was no point trying to smoke his way through this any longer. “Is it Mario? He told all of you? Shit, that fucker.”

“He didn’t,” Claudio finally spoke instead of doing stupid obscene gestures with his hands. “Wait. Mario knows? Why did you tell him and not us?”

Alvaro ignored his question. There were more important things at hand. “How did you guys know?”

All four of them, Leo, Giorgio, Claudio, and Gigi, simultaneously pointed at Paulo.

And Alvaro turned to Paulo and saw Paulo just fucking _gazing_ at him adoringly as if he was like, the most amazing man on earth or whatever, like he was touched and honoured and so happy that Alvaro was being so protective over him and defending him and cursing at Mario, and shit, his eyes were practically shimmering, glazed over with so much love and affection.

In a moment of desperation, Alvaro nudged him with his elbow, and Paulo snapped out of it. He seemed to finally realise that everyone in the room was staring at him, and he leaned back on the couch, arms crossed over his chest and his cheeks quickly turning a bright pink.

“Fuck you all,” he mumbled shyly, pouting and now staring at the ground, embarrassed to have had been caught looking at Alvaro like a puppy.

“No, thanks. Save that for Alvaro,” Claudio replied.

“How long have you known?” Alvaro asked.

“Ever since he started staring at you like that,” Giorgio said. “Like, months ago, man, you guys are the worst. Literally everyone knows.”

“No way,” Paulo said softly. He had this totally adorable horrified look on his face and Alvaro just wanted to kiss the fuck out of him. “But we weren’t, you know. A couple. Until like, last week.”

“Who the hell cares,” Claudio said. “Look, as long as you’re happy. We’re all totally fine with it. Like, it’s so obvious and we talk about it sometimes, not in a bad way, but we just hope you two are happy and that you know what you have coming for you. As for the rest, we’re happy to support you however you want us to.”

“We swear we didn’t know you weren’t together,” Leo added. “It’s just how you always looked at each other. The way you behaved around each other. It just all…clicked. It was like an open secret; everyone knew but no one talked about it. We thought Ana was your beard. And then we went to play that game with Alvaro and found him a girl that maybe _he_ could use as a beard, and when he agreed we thought it was just him playing along so you two wouldn’t get busted. But man, things got tense as fuck when Paulo came. And that was when we knew for sure that there was something going on and maybe you guys were having some problems.”

“That girl thing was a really crappy thing to do and we’re sorry,” Giorgio piped in.

“We’re totally fine,” Claudio said again. “Everyone, we swear. Just…you do you.”

“As long as you don’t do any kinky shit on any of my beds,” Gigi added.

And Paulo burst into a little fit of giggles and Alvaro was simultaneously happy and embarrassed, like he was responsible for Paulo’s actions. He finally leaned back on the couch, feeling his entire body relax knowing that no one was going to judge or expose the both of them. “Thanks, guys. I just really…want this to work out.”

“Alvaro, he’s fucking sitting right there,” Claudio said. “Why are you telling us that? Tell _him_.”

“He knows,” Alvaro said softly, turning to Paulo as Paulo’s hand slowly crept over to his, like he thought if he moved slowly enough no one would notice. “Yeah?”

“ _We_ want this to work out,” Paulo whispered.

“Look, if you two are gonna kiss, don’t do it here,” Gigi said. “I mean, not that I’m grossed out or whatever, it’s just that there’s like, five people walking past per second. And if I were to be honest, you two need to be less obvious.”

Alvaro tore his gaze off Paulo’s face and instead just gave Paulo’s hand a little squeeze before returning both their hands to their respective laps. Then the group seamlessly moved on to another conversation topic, being totally, _completely_ fine with Alvaro and Paulo being together, sitting there pressed up against each other even though there was a huge gap between Alvaro and Giorgio on the couch.

Alvaro could feel this explosive warmth in his chest, not only because Paulo was there, but because he was so relieved and still in disbelief about receiving so much kind support from his closest friends. Knowing that Paulo and he would always be safe, always be protected. Knowing that he could trust the people he saw every day and not continuously hide what he felt for Paulo. Even though he couldn’t all-out express whatever he was feeling for Paulo right then, at least he didn’t have to _hide_ it.

The support was something Alvaro never knew he needed, but now that he had it, felt like the greatest thing on earth.

As he was marveling in this new development he felt Paulo gently press his thigh against his, like he was calling for Alvaro's attention. Alvaro turned and saw that look on Paulo’s face again, that one of pride and affection.

“Te amo,” Paulo mouthed.

Alvaro smiled, and the most vibrant, _childishly happy_ grin appeared on Paulo’s face. He leaned his cheek on Paulo’s head and nuzzled it a little with his beard. “Te amo, Paulo,” he whispered.

And they sat there, calm and relieved in the midst of all the party noise and the rowdy conversation that was going on between Giorgio, Leo, Claudio and Gigi. They sat there taking it all in, the novelty of it all, the excitement of their new life and the support they had. Knowing that now they were in this together and that nothing, _nothing_ was going to stand in the way of them making this work.

\------

At midnight, everyone gathered in the backyard to watch the fireworks in the sky above the center of Turin.

And Alvaro grabbed Paulo's hand and dragged him upstairs, into one of the unlocked rooms, and closed the door behind them. He pressed Paulo against the door with his body, and he bent down and kissed Paulo on the lips.

“Happy new year,” he whispered, and Paulo’s heart fluttered so hard he felt like he was going to suffer from some heart arrhythmia or something.

“Happy new year, Alvi,” he whispered back.

“Fuck, I've been wanting to kiss you the entire night,” Alvaro hissed, his lips landing near Paulo’s ear. His hands were loving as usual, traveling up Paulo’s sides and neck, fingers soothing and gentle like Paulo was the most expensive, precious object he had ever held.

“Me, too,” Paulo smiled. “Alvaro. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro sighed, and then moved next to Paulo, sliding his back down the wall and sitting on the ground. Paulo joined him, the both of them seeking and finally finding some privacy.

“Do you know what tonight has taught me?” Paulo asked.

“That we will always be okay,” Alvaro replied, a dreamy, hopeful look on his face as he turned to Paulo. “Yeah?”

Paulo smiled. He felt warm and comfortable. He felt loved. He felt so alive, so alert to every sensation. So welcoming of everything life was going to fling at him. So much so that if he were to lose everything right then, he wouldn't have given a damn.

Because he lost himself once, and Alvaro found him; now he was home, and he was never going to leave.

“Yeah,” he whispered, taking Alvaro's hand and lacing their fingers together. “As long as we're together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all your nice comments! I really appreciate all of them. I loved sharing this fanfic with you and I hope you had as much fun as I did :)


	12. Epilogue

The room was cozy and warm, there was a glass of iced tea on the table, and Paulo felt completely at ease doing this casual interview for a sports channel. He breezed through the questions, giving the most sincere and polite answers he could conjure.

But even though it was comfortable on the soft couch in Vinovo’s event room, Paulo just couldn’t wait to wrap up and leave.

Because it had been exactly one month since that night he started calling Alvaro his boyfriend, and Paulo was a sappy fuck who wanted to celebrate.

“We’ve reached the last part of this interview,” the guy said, like he knew Paulo was in a hurry to leave. Like, he could probably tell from how Paulo was bouncing on the couch like some ants had gotten into his trousers. But even then, Paulo perked up immediately.

“Yeah,” he said.

“How would you summarise your first six months here in Turin? Not in terms of football, but in terms of the new life you have here.”

Paulo smiled. It was an easy question.

“It’s been amazing,” he started. “I’ve met so many amazing people. I’ve made so many new friends. I love Turin, I love Juve, and I am so glad I moved here. The team is amazing, not just as players, but also as friends. They’ve been so supportive towards me and they’ve never failed to make me feel like I belong here, that we’re all in this together and I can count on them with my life.”

And of course, he spoke those words with the thought of one person in his mind, and everything else that revolved around their world – and like they were fucking soul bonded or whatever, that very person suddenly pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside.

Paulo’s heart gave a violent flutter when Alvaro smiled, his face half shadowed in the darkness of the hallway. Alvaro gave the room a sweeping glance, and upon seeing that no one else was in the room except the back-facing, notebook-scribbling interviewer, mouthed a ‘love you’ at Paulo.

And Paulo almost burst into a fit of giggles but managed to bite down on his lip before doing so. “Fuck off,” he mouthed at Alvaro.

But Alvaro gave a smug smile and instead pushed the door open wider so he could fit into the doorway, and proceeded to lean on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, observing Paulo.

“Who are you closest to on the team?” the interviewer asked, and Alvaro started to rub his palms together creepily as he leered at Paulo, and fuck, Paulo wanted to just run over and fucking kiss him.

He thought for a moment he’d say Mario, or whoever, just to mess with Alvaro. But then he looked at Alvaro again and God, he couldn’t even bear to give an answer that didn’t have Alvaro in it, even if it was just to tease him.

“I’m close to most of the guys, really,” he replied; and then, as the interviewer was still looking down at his notebook and nodding, Paulo met Alvaro’s gorgeous brown eyes with his own. “Mario, Paul, Gigi, you know, the likes. My closest friend would have to be Alvaro. We spend most of our time together, we have a lot in common and he was my first friend in Turin. He’s really done a lot to help me settle and it just stuck, I guess. He’s really a wonderful person. We love hanging out.”

And Alvaro started _blushing_ because he knew exactly what ‘hanging out’ meant, and he looked touched and turned on and embarrassed all at once as he turned his gaze to the ground, a big grin on his stupid face. And fuck, Paulo fucking _loved him_.

After a short pause, the interviewer finally looked up again, and Paulo managed to tear his gaze off the love of his life and place it back on the guy in front of him.

“That’s all I have today,” he smiled, standing up and extending a hand towards Paulo. “Thank you very much.”

“My pleasure,” Paulo replied, and he saw Alvaro duck into the hallway as the interviewer passed with a slight nod.

“Hanging out, huh?” Alvaro said as he finally entered the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Yeah, we love hanging out,” Paulo teased him right back. “Hey, Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s been, you know,” Paulo said shyly, for even though he knew Alvaro wouldn’t judge him, he still didn’t want to come across as some cheesy fucker. “One month. Since that night. Remember?”

“You mean that night when I waited for you in the rain, and then you told me you loved me and we fucked each other into the morning?”

Paulo burst into loud laughter. “Fuck off, Alvaro.”

And Alvaro just looked so _happy_ to see Paulo laugh. He gently grasped the back of Paulo’s neck and pulled Paulo towards him, pressing his lips softly on Paulo’s. And Paulo felt a shudder rip through his body, the best kind of feeling, the physical representation of the utter joy he felt whenever Alvaro kissed him. He grabbed two fistfuls of the front of Alvaro’s training jacket and yanked him downwards because his neck ached from having to crane upwards every time they kissed.

“Of course I remember,” Alvaro whispered. “You’re not the only cheesy fuck in this relationship.”

“I'm glad,” Paulo said as he grinned against Alvaro’s soft lips.

“I love you, Paulo.”

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered back, his hands wandering to Alvaro’s back and clutching Alvaro tightly against himself.

Alvaro gave Paulo’s hair a playful ruffle before pulling away from the hug and taking Paulo’s hand. He unlocked the door, opened it, and checked if there was anyone outside. Once he was convinced the coast was clear, he led Paulo out, their hands still warmly in each other’s, fingers tightly intertwined.

“So, what are your plans for today?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo smiled. Another easy question.

“Nothing much, you know,” Paulo replied, grabbing Alvaro’s wrist with his other hand and leaning his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder as they made their way out. “Just hanging out with my best friend.”


End file.
